


BTVS: In League

by bearblue



Category: 101 Dalmatians - All Media Types, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Dr. Who, Multiverse - Fandom, Other - Fandom, Stargate - All Media Types, The Devil Wears Prada (2006), tenchi muyo
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Gen, Incomplete, M/M, Multi, Multiple Reality, Multiple Universe, Other, Ridiculousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 02:58:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 72,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15110411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearblue/pseuds/bearblue
Summary: Willow Rosenberg returns home, but she’s not the same girl she was years ago. Then again, her world isn’t quite the same either. Stupid Ethan. (YAHF) (Poly/Multiple)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom: BTVS / Multiple  
> Pairing: (Poly/Multiple - See Disclaimer for a general listing; Disclaimers may count as spoilers.)  
> Rating: NSFW/Mature/NC17  
> Summary: Willow Rosenberg returns home, but she’s not the same girl she was years ago. Then again, her world isn’t quite the same either. Stupid Ethan. (YAHF)
> 
> Words: BETA. No word count yet, as this story is not yet complete. It constitutes a beta version until such time as the work is done and may be subject to change. Since this story is BETA expect big chapter shifts as needed. (Only 14 chapters so far...)
> 
> Note: If you don’t read the disclaimer and are surprised by events or bed hopping in this story, I’ll have no sympathy.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction, which pretty well guarantees that “ownership,” of the characters belongs to others and that this work is entirely based on affection. This work is an interpretation and not for-profit, (though it may be for praise and enjoyment) Reference to persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.
> 
> Fandoms either obviously used or subtly referenced are:
> 
> Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Scoobies, past and present)  
> Dr. Who (Donna)  
> Stargate SG-1 (Sam, Jack, Janet, Charlie)  
> Sanctuary (Magnus)  
> League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (Mina)  
> Girl Genius (Agatha)  
> Resident Evil (Claire, Alice, Jill (?), Chris (?))  
> Harry Potter (Some references in the text (The book titles), maybe some witchy support types)  
> Devil Wears Prada (Slayers - the twins, and by extension, Miranda and Andy)  
> Ghost Busters (Mention of existence in Helen’s reality)  
> Tenchi Muyo (Mihoshi - galaxy police)  
> Glee (Lima, OH - the Hellmouth not yet awake)  
> Devil Wears Prada (Miranda, Andy, Lily, Doug)  
> 101 Dalmations (Cruella, Alonzo)
> 
> Others may be added as the story goes on. The adds will be edited into the body of the list in this Disclaimer. 
> 
> Beta Readers: Thank yous go to - Melanacious, GypsyDruid, Shesgottaread, Bonnie, Blackgrl71, and many others - my extraordinary friends. 
> 
> In particular, thanks must go to Melanacious, because this story would not exist without her inspiration. She wanted a Willow / Mina story. I’ve officially probably mashed that a bit, but she’s forgiven me, so it’s all good. And who knows, maybe I’ll manage a Willow / Mina short (hahahahah short... a ahahhahaha... I so rarely manage “short” stories.... But anyhow... who knows what the future holds...)
> 
> Email: bearblue1@yahoo.com  
> Website: http://www.bearblue.com/library/index.htm
> 
> A/N - This is a “get ‘em together” story, as most of my stories start out that way. We’ll see if it goes other places too.  
> A/N - This fiction likely draws from several sources for inspiration - it mostly uses BTVS TV canon as a starting point, however.  
> A/N - I hereby label this story AU. Just in case. Because this definitely involves magic. And while I personally believe that magic exists, there are those among us who need this disclaimer. So for purposes of respect to the cooperative multi-verse in which we live: *stamp* AU *endstamp*  
> A/N - This story involves appendages and physical transformations and happy bits connecting. If phallai offend, perhaps this story is not for you. *stamp* CRACKFIC *endstamp*  
> A/N - Age is a convoluted thing in this story. But that said, those who have been aged back to childhood or are starting from that point in the story will either have to age gracefully back up or be magicked forward before adult fun times can begin for them, while those who have been aged back to look like they could be high school / early college days are technically well past the age of consent. They just don’t look it. And yes, they’re gonna have fun with it. Thank goodness for state IDs, even if they’re a touch modified. *stamp* Yes, They’re Old Enough *endstamp*  
> A/N - This story is about adult human beings who are gendered. Expect sex and love to cross the streams. *stamp* HET-SAME-OTHER SEX*endstamp*  
> A/N - This story has some hints of “bad things that happened to good people.” *stamp* TRIGGER Warning *endstamp*  
> A/N - Plural/Poly relationships happen to be one of my favorite playgrounds. This fiction enters that territory and really gets digging in it. *stamp* POLYAMORY *endstamp*  
> A/N - This story uses a buffy-world setting, which means that some events are darker and more dangerous and possibly unfriendly. *stamp* MAYHEM! *endstamp*  
> A/N - I have decided, just for my sanity, that family and really good friend names shall remain generally consistent, even if they’re wrong or I invented them for the purpose of expanding the characters’ lives.  
> A/N - This story may end up being a little goofy, perhaps with tiny touches of angst, but it will end well. (Once and if I get there...just plan accordingly).

\-----BTVS multi-----

Out in the Multiverse

\-----BTVS multi-----

Willow Rosenberg, Power of Powers, The Red Witch, and World Walking Interdimensional Traveler had no expectations for this new hop. Changing worlds, shifting through time, space and myriad realities had become a sort of necessary hobby. The lithe redhead was slowly making her way back to her world of origination; gaining knowledge, understanding and a rather hefty personal arsenal (among other collections) along the way. The slowness of her travels did not have anything to do with location, per se, so much as she was putting effort into finding a weak spot in a surprisingly durable spell of warding around her home universe and planet. She suspected that someone of a higher order was doing the actual interfering.

She’d gone willingly, of course. The coven had seemed innocuous enough, even slightly fan-personish; right until they tied her up and then things went to all heck. Once she was in their not so careful care, the people who had captured her had made it clear that they had tried her and found her guilty. Not that they’d given her any sort of decent trial and of what she had been tried for, she was never quite clear. She’d once attempted to end the world, but as that never got past Sunnydale and she’d never tried it again, she could not see how that might have been the reason. Any other possibility, except the positing of “she is too powerful” and she had to go, wasn’t really given and by the time she’d made her one sole argument for herself, without quite knowing what the accusation really was and perhaps in a manner that was a little more spicy than her normal way of speaking, things had just gotten worse. One moment Willow was telling an unfamiliar and now completely unfriendly coven to shove it and the next she was being sucked into a portal.

She imagined Buffy had a few words and possibly a scythe of punishment for them later, but it did her no good. She had been thrust elsewhere, to make or stumble her way across the vast territories of infinite possibilities. She fully intended to go home; to her proper home and time. And by then, Buffy would seem like small potatoes as far as pain and gruesomeness was concerned.

She believed that people had a right to defend themselves, to protect their stuff, and do what had to be done. Her belief was that as long as it didn’t hurt an innocent unnecessarily, do what you will. The key word being unnecessarily. Sometimes even the not-so-innocent needed to be cut a break. She was okay with that. But in this case, hurting the bastards who had separated her from Buffy and her friends was very much a thing that needed doing. Especially as she was worried at who else they might be judging, scorning and “punishing.”

Really, if the baddies had been thinking, they probably should have tried to off her. But then she would have fought back a little more fiercely and perhaps might have understood the danger she was in and wouldn’t be in this predicament anyhow. Despite her earlier thoughts of ineffectiveness, given who had been doing the casting, they’d actually managed to stump her; and she was someone who had saved the lives of most people on the world, more than once.

Even so, Willow did not think of herself as a hero. She thought of herself as a hacker, a techie, a nerd, a magic user, a witch, a spell caster. She was not a soft and fluffy pagan and she was not a dark and doomed worshiper of the dark. She was Willow, who started off floating pencils in mild circles and who later, when it came time, cast a spell so wide, it affected the whole world and saved a goodly portion of it; except for Sunnydale.

She knew real heroes, however; people so remarkable and amazing that sometimes it still shook her emotional foundations when she really thought about it. Her friend, Buffy was a Slayer, someone who fought against the dark with a dogged persistence and who, through unique circumstances had died twice, maybe three times even, and lived. Xander, who had been transformed and possessed and grown and maimed and yet (usually) retained the essence of his humanity and humor through it all. Faith, who had lost her way and then found it again, walking in the light and one of two “Chosen” Slayers. Giles, who was their mentor and friend and now was the Watcher of Watchers of a reformed council. Dawn, sister of Buffy, a power of her own and brilliant, like a star. And there were more who had lived upon the Hellmouth, who had taken up the cause of defending life. She missed them all, her familiar friends and faces. She missed her heroes.

And not just because they had all been part of something amazing. They destroyed the Hellmouth and opened up new possibilities of light for the world. It was too bad that to do so, her hometown, Sunnydale had become a crushed pit in the earth, covering up and sealing a portal to dimensions dangerous.

It was for the best, but despite the days and nights where life sometimes hung by a thread, she kind of missed it. After all, it once had one of the greatest malls in California.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Another near earth, another California where Sunnydale never existed; she’d found all kinds of variants of the theme: Sunnyville, Sunnyvista, Sunnyway. It just went on and on. Willow had taken to using longitude and latitude rather than names of places and even that wasn’t always reliable. She more than once found ocean where California should have existed.

That sort of thing hinked a person up. She’d learned not to let her feet touch ground until she knew it was there. Fortunately, aside from the need to grind her assailants’ bones to dust, she’d developed a sense of humor about the whole experience. So in a way, despite the fact she’d been pushed out of her own world, the coven had done her a favor. Where before she’d become a very serious girl, there was now a more lackadaisical, if slightly morbid, wit to her personality. She had been changed by the journey and even now wondered what her friends would think when she finally returned.

It was never if. She did not allow herself to think “if” she returned. It was always when. Though now and then she had been tempted to stay at near-homes. Some of them were so very close to what she knew that they hardly rang any different. It might be they even weren’t at all different and she was being too picky.

Willow was aware that latching onto Sunnydale and tracing its line rather than the Cincinnati Hellmouth or even someplace much less dangerously energized might have been a mistake, but she knew that crater and she knew that vibe like the back of her hand, and, well, it was where the coven had pushed her through the portal. They’d used the remnant energy available from the closed fissure, standing not quite exactly on the Hellmouth, but near it; a still not-good thing. Energy was energy, but the Hellmouth tended to tilt and skew it like a magnet. If one did not adjust for the direction of the skew, and it took skill to do so, well.... there were reasons that magic had some odd effects there.

Nevertheless, whichever world, whatever circumstances, she knew what her Sunndydale felt like, past and present; could recognize it like her own heartbeat. After all, she’d tapped into its earth often enough to get to know that part of the world, and its bowing power, very well. The difference was now she knew how to manage it.

Time, and experience, did lend perspective.

Not that location mattered that much when it came to her using power these days. She drew from her own well of strength quite adequately and had plenty of it. More, she wasn’t on worlds very long. She blipped through realities like flipping the pages of a book; pausing only long enough to check the feel of a place. She stopped only when she needed to rest or something really unusual caught her vision or a new idea on how to approach things flashed to mind.

So Sunnyglen was there and gone and Willow left no mark of herself to show she was even there and she was off to another world.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Willow had finally, finally found the crack, the way in and was chiseling a spell that would shift the reality just enough to let her slip in. It was a bit of time trickery, but all she needed to be was a few steps away from where they pushed her to make it right. The ground she chose had been cleansed very thoroughly and was already made sacred. As she drew sigils in the air, her eyes filled with power, and her hair went bright like fire. She’d only meant to go back a year or two, take a sidestep from one reality to the other and wait a bit. Then, when it was time, surprise the numbskulls who had done this.

However, things started clean, but went wonky. It wasn’t any one particular event which alerted her, but from a cosmic point of view, by the time the magic had stirred and she’d pushed toward that chosen point, it was like a bomb went off. Chaos, already in the works and not done by her hand, lit the myriad realities, shockwaving through worlds and possibilities.

Well, really, she should have expected this. Stupid Ethan Rayne and his Halloween tricks.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Halloween - After 6pm - Sunnydale, California

\-----BTVS multi-----

Willow didn’t think it was possible that she would show up as herself that long ago Halloween night. A part of her was horrified to realize that she’d arrived just in time for the terrible festivities. The other part was fascinated by the mix-up of her circumstances.

She felt around, letting her senses and magic push, to get a feel for where she was, how she managed to be in this particular moment.

She had a few expectations. One of which was a planned connection, which she meant to hide, with herself. Except hiding was not necessary.

She couldn’t find herself at all, except, well... where she was standing.

She wondered, briefly, what happened to her other, younger self and then set aside that concern for a later examination as the chaos around her registered. As worrisome as it might be, there could be many reasons, including the fact that, if this was the night she thought it might be, then she was very possibly a ghost and thus she was using the wrong means of contact anyhow. Or, worst case, it might be she had simply replaced herself, fallen back into her previous life, older and wiser. In which case, she might fake a sixteen if she needed to, but at the moment, she was too occupied with carving a bit of order into the mayhem, just so she could cross the street. After all, she had a role to play, and if she were a bit more tangible than her past costumed incarnation, well, who was going to notice with everything going on anyhow.

Then she grimaced as “reality” set in. Buffy would notice. That young lady was not as oblivious as she liked to pretend she was. After all, Willow knew her test scores, both before college and after.

Buffy would notice the difference. She’d see it in Willow, noting posture, intensity, hair and make up; possibly even scent. Willow hadn’t visibly aged much since the scythe awakened her, but she had seen and lived much. It would be there in her eyes. Buffy would also scope the jeans and the leather jacket and her boots and sundry other pieces of apparel and goodies that a younger Willow would not have attempted to wear. That is, once she snapped out of whomever she was this go around.

On the other hand, Buffy would be pleased that Willow had worn something out of character, so there was that. And if she was lucky, maybe Buffy wouldn’t be the scream queen of the past. It was a good possibility that her friend, the slayer, hadn’t chosen the dress and had, instead made some other decision. That was how the game was played. It was even why she’d found the crack in the seam of reality. Chance was everywhere and that was what had appealed to her in the first place, which had been sort of an oops now that she looked back on it. But she had taken the chance or perhaps it had taken her. And now, here she was, invoking and casting, wordlessly hobbling mini-demons and warriors on the move with flicks of her fingertips.

Thicken was such a useful spell.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Mina Harker had experienced many things in her extended lifetime. She’d seen arcane and profound things, bizarre and unusual things, simple graces and beautiful sunsets. She’d battled madmen, sucked monstrous vermin dry, applied science and mysticism to solve mysteries and had watched her ex-husband and his new wife die of old age. She, however, remained the same. Auburn-haired, blue-eyed, statuesque and same apparent age as when she received her first bite from Count Vladimir Dracula.

Her husband had never forgiven her for it, as unfair as that might be.

More, it had taken her a long time to forgive herself; years, decades, a century or two. It helped that she had found purpose outside her early misery and companionship on a journey that made heroes out of monsters.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, a club of people who defended the world from darkness, had been started as a ruse by a madman, who wished to start an endless war. It had become something more, something of which to be proud. Despite the false history which they’d let remain for the newer recruits (for inspiration was just as important as veracity, and who was to say that somewhere the history that had been cobbled together wasn’t true in spiritual form at least), she was a founding member. It seemed as if she’d been with the league for always, though truthfully, that was an impossibility. It was long enough that it was hard to imagine a different life, though she did take a few years off now and then, when the battles waned or the heroes who were gathered were many. The League had grown over the years, breaking off into subgroups, which monitored and covered events through the world. Every country had at least a member or two within them, able to call upon the full body if necessary. That was rare, these days. It had been years since the last apocalyptic event.

As Mina stood on the balcony of her apartment and gazed at blue sky and fluffy clouds, she couldn’t help but think things had gotten a little boring.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Out in the Multiverse

\-----BTVS multi-----

In retrospect, Mina realized the whole debacle harked back to that instance of boredom. Even though she hadn’t said the words out loud, there was no doubt her attitude had been transparent to those around her and that was like waving a red-flag at fate and saying, “I dare you.” Of course, her friends had simply tried to entertain her with dinner. It was the uninvited guests, the ones casting spells and wielding swords, which made things exciting.

Her friends and herself being what they were, took the fight to the enemy mages and their warriors, battling with fists, weapons and their natural or, in one specific case where technology had gone wrong, unnatural, extraordinary talents. Mina transformed, becoming a woman of fang and claw. Her blue eyes turned brighter and more azure and her form took on a dangerous shadow. Her fellow heroes were somewhat used to the change, and so disregarded it; as she disregarded their changes.

The enemy, powerful as they were, however, were not used to it. She flowed with preternatural speed, faster than most eyes could track and in no time at all had in her grip one of the foul trespassers. Her teeth grew even longer and she smiled with a predator’s happiness. Her growl was almost a teasing purr, rather than it’s usual warning to the dead. “Ah. Dessert. Thank you. Just what I needed to top off my meal.”

Her victim’s eyes widened as her hand at their throat cut off the air that would have supplied voice to their incantation. Then, without any more waiting, she drew him forth, bit and gloried as blood and power and knowledge flowed through her veins and mind. Her eyes turned blood red as she feasted and in a matter of heartbeats it was over.

She was not a neat eater when it wasn’t a lover. Blood covered her mouth, spattered against her face. Crimson faded into her skin as she took the briefest of moments to wiper her lips and lick her fingers, to neaten her hair, adjust her outfit; in this case black boots, a flattering navy blouse, black linen slacks. She did love this era, where women’s liberation had taken hold and shaken the world-tree. She liked dressing both fashionably and comfortably. By the time she was back in the fight, hardly even seconds really, she looked as pristine and presentable as ever.

Until her next victim and her next; each one strengthening her as she took in their life essence and made it her own. Not that she needed them. She was already very, very, very powerful. Her friends considered her a “heavy hitter,” though a subtle one in usual circumstances.

With each soul she partook, she learned new things, some more useful than others. When she finally found a minion who wasn’t just fodder, she discovered the reason for the attack. It seemed it had nothing to do with the people (herself included) who had been enjoying dinner and everything to do with the need for blood and sacrifice. she and her dinner companions had just happened to be in the “right place, right time;” depending upon ones perspective.

Now she knew that, while the “footmen” battled, the real work was being done deeper in the building. This was where Mina began to truly hasten, breaking only long enough to take the life of those who got in her way. She had enough time to mentally reach out her awareness to the closest other hero and then she was gone through a set of double doors and rushing through the kitchens, down into the dark cellar.

She made it just in time to see a group of thirteen individuals in robes, chanting. Twelve rode the circle, with the last one in the middle. She rushed forward, grabbed the first person she could, dragging them into the everlasting. Even as they died they kept chanting, and it tried to spin in her head, to voice itself through her mouth, but she was a Lord and Master vampire, venerable and powerful. She swallowed the essence with nary a blink and cast herself toward the middle, intending to break the circle, to stop what they intended.

The floor opened underneath her and it was a pool of light. She grabbed the man in the middle, and plunged her teeth in. It was only then that she realized it wasn’t human, but by then she was drinking, and drinking, stemming the tide as the creature tried to open a portal. It screamed in rage as she finally broke it, but the portal was suddenly wide open. And, because the creature wasn’t there to chant anymore, instead of thrusting out and bringing death with it, the portal pulled in like a great, inescapable whirlpool.

She tried. Oh, how she tried, breaking into various forms, bat and mist being her most usual, things that might have scattered, but the entity that was the portal, had one calling and if it was not to do one thing, then it would do the other.

Mina was dragged in, screaming, away from her old world and to someplace where she never had been.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Halloween 1997 - Sunnydale, California

\-----BTVS multi-----

If it weren’t for the fact that she felt the need to protect her friends during the beginning of the mayhem, among a few other things, Willow would simply have gone straight to Ethan’s; that and she couldn’t quite remember its original location. Trying to sense where he was, was an exercise in futility until she could manage to get centered better. Sunnydale’s Hellmouth, specifically, was notorious for its ability to muck with “finding” people via mystical energy signals; though all Hellmouths had their complications.

She did, however, remember where Buffy, Xander and herself had lived. And she knew where the school was located. Worse comes to worst, she could find her friends from there if need be. Heck a part of her thought she should simply head to the school anyway, as she knew Giles was there, organizing his beloved library.

She also remembered, however, that Buffy was a screamer the last time Willow had encountered this night. Therefore, the “right” thing to do was go to rescue Buffy and then find Xander and then Giles. A little outside the order of the past, but either way, find and save first. Then stop Ethan.

She had a bit of a trek ahead of her, as she hadn’t exactly been dropped close-by. It wasn’t onerous, but she didn’t have a car and didn’t want to chance teleportation just at the moment. Floating maybe, but, the energy around Sunnydale was flexing and pulling and pulsating madly, partly because of Ethan’s magic, partly because it always did and partly because of something she could not quite identify. It was as if another set of spells were in the works; which wasn’t an impossibility, given Sunnydale. It was simply an unexpected addition to the puzzle. Either way, she would hate to be above ground and suddenly be dropped because the “gravity” changed. Uncomfortable that. Almost as bad as nearly drowning because the ground wasn’t there.

Choices, choices.

Thus she trotted, not quite running or walking, but making some good time in the direction she was heading.

\-----BTVS multi-----

In retrospect encountering the youngest Summers first made a bizarre and instructional sort of sense. No one had questioned how the Monks had altered memories, as at the time no one thought to go back to the past to actually experience it. Willow, however, was more than a little shocked when she laid eyes on a younger, shorter version of Dawn, whom she thought of in terms as an adopted daughter and sister and friend. In short, Dawn was family.

Willow’s astonishment might also have been based on the fact that the brown-haired girl was tied to a lamp-post with random tiny monsters whooping and dancing around her as if in enthusiastic magical ceremony. For all that, Dawn was surprisingly calm, not once yelling out and hardly even struggling. On the other hand, the redhead could see that Dawn’s hands were busy worrying at the knotted sheet that tied her hands together.

As Willow recalled, Dawn hadn’t really encountered the sort of trouble that led to arcane or deadly consequences until she’d found out about Buffy. So, this was definitely new and unusual; which meant that things were already changing in this world. She did not know if it was because of her presence or because Ethan was an ass of a Wizard.

She actually felt quite fine laying all the blame at his chaotic feet.

Willow cocked her head and absorbed the scene for a few moments longer. It had been awhile since she’d seen helpless Dawn, and even then, she now realized, the young woman wasn’t so entirely helpless. She was making good headway with the knot, complicated by the fact it had been tied by monster-tykes and was likely quite Gordian in nature. Even though this wasn’t Tuesday, Dawn was holding her own. For some reason, that really tickled Willow.

She moved closer, careful not to step into the ring, which was definitely building power despite it’s random nature. “Say Dawn. Whatcha doing? Babysitting gone wrong? Need a hand?”

Dawn’s attention snapped to Willow. Her eyes widened fractionally and the older woman saw the girl’s glance rake up and down. Then she attempted that aplomb she’d been working on mastering since she’d turned twelve, leaning against the post as if she meant to be there; hands still working the knot. “Oh. Uhm. Hi.” She shouted slightly to be overheard atop the whoops and growls, yet her posture continued to play as if they were just talking normally in a hallway somewhere. Then girl shrugged and glanced at the little monsters and then back at the redhead. “Wait. You know who I am?”

A smile graced Willow’s face and she decided a tease was definitely in order. “Yes. I do believe we’ve met by now, haven’t we?” She let her expression turn puzzled, all the while keeping her smile friendly. She propped her hands on her hips. “I seem to recall knowing you since you’ve arrived, but I could be mistaken…You are Dawn Summers. If not, I suppose I could just go…”

“No! No. Don’t go,” Dawn wilted a little and offered a hopeful glance. Then, as if it would make sense, she said. “You know who you are?”

Willow grinned. It made sense to her. She knew this night all too well. Still feeling playful, she waved a hand. The tiny monsters stopped, frozen midstep, whoops caught in the air. “I am the Red Witch.”

Dawn’s eyes went really wide.

The redhead smiled. “Also known, to you, as Willow Rosenberg. Though it has been awhile since I’ve been back here. Got a bit sidetracked in the multiverse. You don’t happen to know which way Buffy went, do you? And did she pick the noble woman outfit again? I hope not. She doesn’t do so well with that one and we really need to find her if she did. Oh, and be careful where you step, Dawnie. That’s a circle of power you’re in. I doubt it was intentionally generated, but there’s so much chaotic energy, I have a feeling that any order seems like good order at this point and the energy wanted to go there. Say, why are you still dressed as you? I thought you had a costume.” Willow babbled slightly as she waved her hand again. The ropes around Dawn’s hands dropped.

Dawn’s next phrase was one of abject wonder and awe, said slowly and with feeling. “Wow.”

Willow smiled despite herself. “I’m probably breaking some rule of causality, but it’s just so good to see you that I couldn’t outright lie. Are you okay with that?”

Dawn blinked and then suddenly nodded sharply. “More than okay. And I did have a costume, but the make-up got squished and Mom said I could go buy some more and when I started back from the store things went all to heck. You’re different, though. What happened to the you, you?”

Willow interpreted. “No idea. I have a feeling I may be me, me. Just older.”

“Buffy is going to freak.” Willow held back the giggle that threatened to erupt at the nearly wicked gleeful expression on Dawn’s face.

“I was thinking about faking it. Just pretending to be me, me while I’m here. Hadn’t quite settled on the idea.” She raised her arms in open invitation. Dawn tended to like hugs and cuddles after a capture and rescue. Well, needed more than like.

The invitation was accepted with a careful alacrity. Dawn navigated between still forms, avoiding pointy objects and then wrapped her arms tightly around Willow, who returned the hug just as sharply. The girl eased back only enough to say, “Wait a minute, you’re not treating me as dumb.”

“No. I suppose I’m not.” Willow’s smile was whimsical. “I’ve known you awhile, you know.”

The young girl blinked and then grinned. “How faking it?”

“I was thinking a glamor or simply an age reversal. Not my favorite plan, but I hate to see my grades go down when I worked so hard for them in the first place and can’t imagine myself testing out with a GED.” She drew away, but kept one arm circled around Dawn’s shoulder. She gazed at the circle of power thoughtfully. It would be a shame to let that go to waste. “Do you think it’s cheating if I’ve already taken the tests?”

“Oh heck no. I mean, you could get a different version of the test and it’s not like you didn’t study for it before. Do you have a photographic memory?”

Willow’s eyes twinkled. “I might.” Then she gently pulled Dawn back. “Can’t just leave that there,” she nodded toward the circle. “That much of a pool is just asking for it, especially tonight of all nights.”

“So what do we do?”

“Well, Dawn, as you are not yet trained, you stand over there.”

Dawn squealed. “I’m going to get trained! In magic? Real magic? Are you gonna do it?”

“I don’t know yet. I don’t even know if I’m staying. You may be stuck with other me if I can’t catch a break, in which case, definitely not; for awhile. And don’t pester anyone about it. You’ll just have to wait to the right moment and people show up. Now shoo.” Willow waved Dawn in the direction she wanted her to go. “But don’t go too far. Stay where I can see you and you can scream for me and, remind me to give you a knife when we’re done. Just in case. Lots of these little miscreants out here, after all. And some big one’s too. Wouldn’t want you to be a snack, now would we?”

“No, we would not,” Dawn said very sincerely.

“I’m glad we understand one another.” Willow’s smile tightened and then her eyes turned to light, causing Dawn to gasp. Then the redhead turned, facing the pool of power.

Willow tucked a hand in one of her pockets and then drew out a large polished crystal. It gleamed, but was otherwise see-through. “I think you’ll do,” she said to it with a bit of contemplation in her tone. Then she tossed it with casual ease into the air, where it “landed,” suspended in the middle of the circle. “Ah, that’s quite larger than I realized, but that’s alright. The containment will hold.”

“How did you get that out of that pocket?” Dawn was referring to the size of the crystal, which was technically larger than the opening of the jean’s pocket.

“Dimensional shift, Dawn. We can talk theory later if you’d like, but probably not tonight. Tonight, is a night for action.” Willow lifted her hands and then, began to chant The timber of her voice rolled with power and her hands glowed; as did the crystal.

The intention was that the energy would, with a little tug here and a little tug there, “unplug,” from the binding and then spiral into the crystal, like a tub draining. Simplicity and it was working.

“Willow! Watch out!”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Out in the multiverse

\-----BTVS multi-----

Every now and then Donna Noble would experience flashes of brilliance; the kind of brilliance that mad scientists and mages would envy and try to suck out of a person for their own nefarious use, if they knew. As it was, the temp service she worked for thought she was a gold-mine. Not that they told her about their very careful application choices. If she knew that they always sent her to the bad-luck-no-one-ever-managed-it before cases, she might have gotten a little mad.

And Donna Noble angry was not a pleasant person to be around. She could verbally flay a person, leaving them bare to the universe and themselves, in heartbeats. She could physically flay them, after a little bit longer. Though, fortunately, that only happened the one time and she promptly forgot about it and her penchant for being smarter than the average bear immediately after.

That forgetting happened on a regular basis, because of the meddling of a timelord, who really should have known better. But then, he had been somewhat caught up in the idea that he was dying at the time and, even though really, he wasn’t, he was and so… yeah. He made a tiny mistake and wiped her mind and memories, telling everyone close to her that should she remember, she would die. At the time, he really believed it. She had, after all, started out human.

Dr. Martha Jones might have called that declaration of death a bit of emotional and psychological transposition, had she been there. However, she hadn’t and there was no way for her to examine the patient until after the timelord had mucked about with the woman’s memories and by then, well, Donna Noble didn’t really run in Dr. Jones’ circles for investigation and a health check. Torchwood had its own problems and the Temp Agency had their own mandates.

In the meantime, the woman who had a head for numbers, a tall, curvy, smart-aleck redhead, had saved Britain, the world and the universe several times while under the employ of the agency; even after she married and won the lottery. Donna did not like to be bored and she did like to feel useful. Sure, she and her husband took time to sail around the world, but she kept her hand in the temp business, taking on a job or two so her resume stayed up to date. After all, one never knew.

In the meantime, she grew two hearts; though she didn’t know it. And her brain changed. Again, without her knowledge. Her cells recomposed themselves and one day she jogged farther than she ever had in her life, faster than she ever had. That had been a great day and she attributed it to being happy and a great fitness regimen.

She still wasn’t quite sure when she took up running, but she found that she liked it.

About two years after she was married, her husband was killed in the line of duty, dying bravely.

She made a beautiful and agonized widow, but she was British, so she also kept a stiff upper lip and chose to remember their love as a thing of beauty. So it was. That, at least, she could remember freely.

In a glass shelf, at the back of beyond in the Temp Agency, there were numerous awards and certificates. She did not know about any of these. The Temp Agency, in their wisdom were saving them for the day she “retired.” After all, she had earned them, but some of those certificates were titles and some of them were in alien writ and thus they were state secrets until such time as she was ready for them.

Her family knew she wasn’t a ditz, but she thought she was and that was a travesty to her grandfather. Yet, for some reason her mother was content to let the young woman think it, because it felt and seemed normal. She was a woman who preferred the simple things in life, even if her daughter thought herself to be slightly dumb. However, the redhead really was Dr. Donna Noble and really was quite, quite bright.

In the meantime, The Temp Agency treated her as their best come-and-go hired hand and problem solver that she was and she earned a little (really more than she had any idea about) pocket money.

Thus, one day, she found herself standing in front of a giant, blue round thing in the basement of a warehouse. The basement was quite plain, except for the army of geeks and soldiers that trooped about, looking busy and as far as Donna could tell, doing absolutely nothing useful. She’d already filed a whole room and they just walked back and forth a lot with grim determination.

She was taking a break in the main room, where gizmos and gadgets were strewn about with people looking importantly at them; which she ignored. She stared at the blue round thing, which had sigils lined up on the edges in three rounds and none of them matched, though some of them were the same.

Donna loved puzzles and that is what this reminded her of, so she felt it worth her time to at least look at it. She had folders and a digital clipboard, which she had personalized with little sticker-hearts on the back, in one hand and a coffee cup in another. She and the other secretary, a blonde American man named Daniel, who had been organizing a library and had his own opinions on things, were standing close together, chatting idly. Though they both could speak a mile-a-minute, and Daniel sometimes threw in the big words, they managed not to talk over one another, but with one another.

Daniel, it seemed had seen one of these puzzles before, but with much different sigils. He did not recognize the lettering.

Donna didn’t think that one had to know what the letters meant to solve the puzzle, as it was simply a matter of filing the numbers correctly.

She had a good head for numbers, acknowledged by anyone who managed to get past her gossipy talk and really get to know her. She finally shrugged at Daniel who was still stuck on the language and said, “Well, you may be right. I am sure smarter people than me will figure that one out.”

“You have to quit knocking yourself. I think you’re pretty smart.”

She grinned at him and bumped his shoulder. “Too bad you’re taken, I’d snatch you up just for that. Hey, you and your soldier-boy doing anything Friday?”

Daniel most carefully did not look at the man in question, who had gone a few shades of red. “I guess we do now.”

“Excellent. Well Ta. Good luck. I’ve got yet more records to set in order. You would not believe how they left this place. Everything tossed willy nilly. It was as if a pitched battle happened in that room.”

Daniel’s brows rose to his hairline and he offered a squeaky little smile, which she blithely accepted and then she left.

Then General who had been multi-colored from lack of air and outrage came to stand beside the doctor of archeology, working toward his aplomb. “That’s the woman they sent to help us? Her?”

“Well, she does have a brilliant filing system. Quite remarkable actually.”

Two days later and one day before Friday, Donna Noble solved the puzzle. She intended to tell Daniel, but decided to check her numbers on the closest available computer; which accidentally opened a gate. Her body, so near the whirling pool of energy that occurred because the gate was opened, was flooded with that energy and filled with light and epiphany after epiphany.

Her first word was “Oh!” Her second exclamation was, “That idiot! I’m going to smack the back of his head when I see him next. Stupid Doctor.” Her final exclamation, as she saw tentacles reaching through the portal was “Oh. Bugger.” And then, mind and body whole, but with only a clipboard to beat upon the writhing mass that had grasped and held her, she was dragged into the portal, which closed and cycled shut for another hundred thousand years.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Halloween - Sunnydale, Calilfornia

\-----BTVS multi-----

Willow didn’t bother with ducking. She was an old hand at splitting her mystical attention and still remaining centered. It was one of those consequences of how she’d lived her life and usually it was a benefit, but sometimes, say when she was truly distracted and mentally tracking some other detail, it had other less pleasant results. For now, however, she invoked a shield, inclusive of Dawn, and barely paid attention to the slavering lizard-man, well, lizard-tyke, who was hacking away at the invisible barrier with an all-too-real miniaturized battle-axe.

“You have got to teach me that,” Dawn said, and despite Willow’s earlier warning, she drew closer. 

The mage did not answer, as she really was busy, but she smiled at Dawn before returning her attention toward the power circle and the crystal. The crystal had begun to glow at the center and to spin. Like the gathering of stars at the center of the galaxy, it drew power. Delicate arm-like tendrils of light appeared, adding to that illusion. The rotation was consistent, but it seemed to draw more and more power, adding to the visual strength of its ‘arms.’

“Ooh. Pretty,” Dawn commented. 

Now the girl stood very close to Willow again. The older woman glanced back at Dawn intending to warn her to stand back, for her own protection. Then she noticed something she missed the first time. “Dawn, you’re bleeding.”

Dawn, who had forgotten about achy wrists and nicks gotten by sharp poky sticks that had prompted her to get tied up in the first place, said, “Yeah. So? I’ve bled a lot in my time. You know me. The klutz.”

“You are not a klutz. You just have abrupt growth spurts which throw off your innate sense of balance.” Dawn’s expression brightened at the declaration, so very firmly given that it had to be taken at face value. “However, when you reach your full height... wait... You’re bleeding.” Willow’s eyes widened as she repeated herself and then she looked back at the spinning crystal. “Oh dear,” she said weakly. “Oh shoot fuzzies.”

“What?”

“I hate to say this, and please don’t take it the wrong way, but I don’t have time to explain. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

“Sure,” Dawn said easily. “I’ve read a few books in the high school library when Mom had to go to the principal’s office about Buffy. They have some wild books in that library, but very interesting. I didn’t know they allowed those kinds of books, ‘cause they weren’t at Buffy’s old school, but I guess Mr. Giles is all about anti-censorship and really, really old books. But my point is that I can guess.” She pointed, a little lazily, at the glowing circle. “ When the junior-monsters pushed me to the post, they spilled some of my blood unintentionally and because of that, the circle has more power, which means you have to focus more.”

Willow blinked, considered what she might say and what ought to be and finally settled on, “Close enough.” Then she really began to work, focusing on looping spirals of power over and under the crystal, planting her auric feet to the ground, so to speak. “Whatever happens, Dawn, stay in the protective shield.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on going anywhere. This is way cooler than getting bags of random candy corn. Besides, given what’s going on tonight, I don’t think there’s gonna be much of a haul.”

“Point. We’ll just have to make do with second-day store-sale candy” 

“Woot!”

Despite the gravity of the situation, the redhead smiled as she worked. Willow’s hands were making motions, as if she were tying great knots or wrangling a beast or several. Then she began to chant, Now the light at her hands appeared to be streams, running from palm and fingertips, which the Red Witch tugged and pulled and tied into place. She moved with the power, dance-like. Dawn moved with her, following the shield and her older friend, for whom she now held oodles of respect. 

The Lizard-tot got distracted by some noise and did not follow, opting for easier prey. He was followed in random succession by the other monster-tots who were freed from Willow’s previous spell, simply because she had to focus more on what she was doing right then. Those fanged and clawed and other-kin creatures dispersed with a distracted haste, perhaps given the shyest push from Willow’s magic.

It was work, definitely. A fine sheen of sweat beaded Willow’s brow. Dawn had watched as the redhead’s eyes had shifted a full spectrum of colors, from white to black to white again. Power thrummed all around her and a part of her basked in it, another part of her was willing success at her older friend, unconsciously adding to Willow’s base and helping her efforts.

They could both see the changes as the crystal brightened and the circle’s power drained. 

They almost managed it perfectly. 

And then, because the magic around the hellmouth really was that wonky, the power spiked hard.

The crystal hummed, only it wasn’t a quiet hum, but a powerful thrum of noise that caused Dawn to bend and cover her ears. Willow had no choice but to hear it, and her chant broke into a scream, a perfect pitch of a high note.

The crystal shattered and the power rocketed back out. Most of the shards of the crystal simply dropped to the ground, lit with power and waiting, but a portion flung out and where they hit the ground they formed portals and gateways. Some stayed open mere seconds and flickered closed unused. A few of the larger ones however, stayed open just long enough that disoriented people or things began falling through.

“Crap,” said Dawn. “That can’t be good.”

“Well,” Willow drawled slowly as she recovered, “Believe it or not, I’ve seen worse.”

\-----BTVS multi-----


	2. Chapter 2

BTVS: In League Pt 2

\-----BTVS multi-----

Halloween - Sunnydale, California

\-----BTVS multi-----

Willow was very hard-pressed to know what to handle first. Her short, orderly list of rescue had just gotten exponentially larger. “Okay, Dawn, stay with me now. The shield should keep us safe.”

“You couldn’t pay me to leave. This is better than cable.” The girl’s fingers were hooked through one of Willow’s belt loops. They both blinked as another person fell through one portal and then was sucked into another before they could even react. Then both portals winked out with the now emptied miniature crystal shards dropping to the ground to join the other shards, some of which were now used up and most which still glowed with power. “In fact, I think it might be cable.”

“You’re exaggerating.” Just as Willow said this one of the portals blazed brightly. The sound of weapons being fired zinged through the air. A woman in military fatigues fell out of the portal, as if she’d been pushed. In fact, they saw the vague form of a man’s hand reaching through and then pull back. The woman staggered forward, as if she’d been expecting more of a barrier or a walk and then she collapsed to her knees. 

Dawn, with the mastery of her age-range, waved her hand towards the woman with a “See!” gesture. 

Willow blinked maybe twenty times before she believed what her eyes were telling her and then she had to give in. “Okay. Yeah. You may be right.”

Before she could say more Dawn shouted, “Major Carter! Major Carter! It’s safer over here! Hurry!”

The blonde woman looked up and at them in a mixture of weariness, pain and astonishment.

Willow said, “You know. I don’t think she has a lot of get up and hurry in her.”

“We can’t leave her there! You know what could happen...”

“It might be for the best.”

“NO. No! It wouldn’t.” Again, as if to prove Dawn’s point, another portal lit up fiercely. This time a tangle of giant, grasping arms reached out, some slapped the ground, causing it to quake, causing people who weren’t kneeling in dire tiredness or surrounded by a powerful magical shield to stagger around. 

“Okay. You win,” Willow said. Then her expression determined, she marched into the fray, incanting and then pointing at the portal with the giant hands. A jolt of power sparked from her fingertips, and the hands lifted and shook as if shocked by electricity. The hands retreated then and Willow closed that portal by sheer will. 

They happened to be close enough to the shell-shocked major for Dawn to grab her and tug her into the relative safety of the shield. 

Willow meanwhile was digging around in her pocket. She pulled a cloth item from it and then shook it out. It looked like a shopping carry-all. “Some of this will stop if we can get the shards out of the energy field. Hold this.” She handed the bag back without even looking to see who got a hold of it; which happened to be a rather dazed and confused woman.

“What is going on?”

“I don’t think Willow has time to explain, Major. I’m Dawn Summers, by the way.”

“Major Samantha Carter.” The woman answered perfunctorily, blinking in surprise as Willow scooped glowing shards that were obviously full of some sort of power from the ground without the use of an obvious physical tool. “Telekinesis?”

“Close enough,” Dawn shrugged and then her eyes went wide. “Willow. Incoming!”

Another portal suddenly flared to life. A redheaded woman popped out, holding two large closed umbrellas as if they were swords. What a rush!” she said, sounding very English. “But I don’t think this is home either.” Then she said, loudly. “Oy! Where am I?”

“Sunnydale, California!” Dawn supplied. 

The woman tucked the umbrellas together and then under one arm. “Well, then I probably don’t need these, do I?” 

Another portal popped open. 

“Watch out!” Dawn exclaimed. The redhead had just enough time to turn before a brunette woman plowed into her. 

“Ooh. That had to hurt.”

Samantha, who was still holding the bag, which surprisingly had not gotten any heavier with the addition of the shards, pretty much settled for nodding.

“Willow, we gotta go save them.”

“Dawn. I’m busy.” Which was true. Willow was busy scooping shards, closing portals before they could open fully, trying to control massive energy fluxes and keeping the shield intact. 

“Take four wide steps to the left.” Dawn insisted. While the necessity could be argued, the tone, however, could not. As Willow moved, Dawn grasped the Major and they all moved together. Soon the shield was covering two more people.

“Beg your pardon,” the woman who had collapsed upon the redhead was maneuvering to right herself. 

“It’s quite alright. I’m much harder to kill than I used to be,” the redhead quipped. “So from what I gather we are at a center of interdimensional fluxes?”

“Power got accidentally summoned. Blood spilled. Something overloaded the system before it could be fixed. Crystal shattered. Portals opened. Yeah, that’s about right. I’m Dawn. She’s Willow. This is Samantha.” Dawn summarized. 

“Helen.”

“Donna.”

“Nice to meetcha. Stay in the shield, unless you really want to take another joy-ride into the unknown.” 

Another portal blew open and the sound of an object being flung, whooshing like a blade, but not quite seen, was heard. No one saw where it went and the noise fell into the distance. “How we doing with gathering the shards?”

“Almost done. It’s not the shards so much as all the wild magic. It’s just more to compensate for than usual.” Another portal popped open right on top of them and a swarm of bats filled the air. 

“Now see,” Dawn said, “That I kind of would have expected on a night like tonight.”

“And what night is it?” Helen asked as she tried to do a quick visual assessment. 

“Halloween. It’s gone crazy. See that tiny monster over there. That used to be Jason Burkman. He’s six.” She pointed at a small creature, growling and slavering, that was chasing after a buxom bikini-clad co-ed in heels, who was screaming and clip-clopping away at a fast pace. “But he became his costume.”

“Became his costume?” Donna queried in shock.

Willow finally joined the conversation, “Chaos magic. Someone did a naughty spell. People wearing costumes from a particular shop become the disguise they created.”

“Quantum re-imaging of whole physical systems? Fascinating.” Helen said, eyes alight with interest.

The bats suddenly disappeared and where they had been, a tall, blonde woman appeared. Her eyes glowed dangerously and she whipped around. She took one look at Willow and flung herself at the witch. 

Willow had no chance to duck or change direction or any possible move. Her hands were occupied with saving Sunnydale and possibly the world. No one else had a chance to act either, as the woman’s movement was so fast it neared the appearance of teleportation. Then she was holding Willow, one arm around her waist as if she were a long lost lover and the other arm wrapped around the redhead’s neck and head. The stranger’s mouth latched onto Willow’s neck and her eyes turned blood-red.

Dawn shouted “Oh my god!”

And just as abruptly, the woman’s eyes became the brightest blue, almost glowing. Her hair stood upright, as if electrified. She jerked back, crimson on her lips, which vanished, and then she pressed her mouth to Willow’s neck again. This time it was less like the grip of a predator and more a form of intimacy. The redhead twitched in her grasp, which was still tight. The woman’s lips trailed up and then formed a whisper at Willow’s ear. 

No one else could hear what was said, but Willow’s hands, the palms of which had turned toward the back of the unknown woman, flung forward and out again. The shield, which wavered strengthened and the shards, which had been abruptly halted, resumed their great arcing pour into the bag that the Major was holding.

The vampire stepped back from Willow, but only enough to change position. She otherwise kept an arm wrapped around her waist in an oddly possessive gesture, but it was probably a now necessary act of support. 

“Hey! You bit Willow!” Dawn lunged forward, fist formed and was caught mid-punch by a very strong grip. 

“Young lady, it was an honest mistake. I’ve made my apologies.”

“Mistake!”

“Not now Dawn!” Willow snapped, her expression tense. Portals opened and closed and most of them didn’t dump anything out of them, because she was closing them almost as fast as they burst into being. It was starting to tap her strength, however. “She didn’t know we were the good guys. We’ll figure the rest out later.” The number of shards decreased sharply, however, and that was a very fortunate thing. They were drawing closer to the end and quickly, thank the Goddess.

Dawn glared at the brunette and then jerked her hand back, or rather tried. The tall woman let her hand go. Dawn said, “Well you know my name, who are you?”

“Mina Harker.”

Dawn blinked, and despite herself shared a glance with the other women around her. “That’s...”

“You’re not going to say impossible are you? As I can assure you, given the number of nexai we’ve seen around here, it’s more than probable,” Donna said. She stepped closer to the stern looking brunette, gazing speculatively at her. “She’s not an alien, if it makes you feel better.”

“Hey, I’m just very distracted right now. I mean, Mina Harker is very definitely fictional and she should be dead, or at least a very, very old lady, because it’s 1997 and she’s wearing jeans and a blouse. You know. Modern clothes. Definitely not turn of the 19th century horses and carriage long-skirtiness.””

“Time must run very differently in each possible universe which connected the portals,” stated Helen with an obvious enthusiasm. “I am from the year 2009.”

Donna said, “Well, lately I’ve been all backwards and forwards, but I entered my first portal in 2011. It’s been years for me since. So future and past and many different worlds for me.”

“2007,” Samantha Carter said weakly. “I’m going to have to make a phone call.”

“You can’t,” Dawn blurted and then said, “Well, I don’t think you can. I mean, you’re a character from a TV show. And she’s from a book!” Dawn pointed at Mina. 

“I assure you, I am quite real.” Mina said, even as Samantha paled even further. 

“And I got the bite-marks to prove it.” Willow quipped. “My what sharp teeth you have. I thought you were cured.”

“Everyone did and technically, I am. Or was. And then my husband got grey hairs, but I didn’t, and it became apparent things weren’t quite as they ought to be.” Mina still hadn’t let go of Willow, who had turned to face the girl and thus now everyone was facing each other. No more portals were flashing open, but the shield remained. Willow looked pale, but not drawn. “And on my world the year is 2010.” Her eyes flashed. “And, to be clear, I’ve been alive for a very long time. I am, as you say, an old lady.”

“Someone else needs to hold this,” Samantha said, extending the bag of shards.

“I’ll take them,” Willow said, reaching for them. It was only at that point that she noticed how much the Major was trembling. Then she saw a dark patch on the officer’s uniform. “You’re bleeding. Oh wow. You’re bleeding. You’ve been shot. Why didn’t you say you were shot. Dawn!”

“What? I didn’t shoot her.”

“Hold this,” Willow thrust the sack of shards to the teen, who took it and grasped the bag closed and tight. Then the Red Witch staggered forward, pushing past the strength of Mina’s grip. “Okay, Samantha, we’re going to...”

“Call me Sam.”

“Sam, we’re just gonna stop the bleeding and get you a nice comfy place to lay down.”

“That would be nice,” Sam said just as her eyes rolled back. 

She was caught by Helen, who drew her carefully prone. “I am a medical doctor, I can help.”

“Cool, that’s a very, very good thing and we may need you, but we’ll use a little magic this time, if that’s alright. I have a feeling the hospital isn’t the safest place to be right now. Plus, I think we need to find Buffy and Xander and Cordelia and get to Buffy’s house and call Giles.” Willow’s hands brightened again and she pressed them to the Major’s body. 

“And these people are?”

“My friends,”

“Hey, you hate Cordelia!”

“No. I don’t. But I did. And you are gonna have to use that very smart brain of yours, Dawn and think faster, kiddo. I left my world in 2020, so I know a few things. 

“Holy crap, I knew you were older, but not that old.”

“I’m even older than that, Dawnie. Been traveling a bit. Like Donna, here.”

“Oh, we can compare notes.” The other redhead joshed. “It’s been awhile since I’ve met a fellow traveler.”

“I’d like that, but not now.” Willow grinned and withdrew her hands. “Sam’s stable, but I want to get her someplace she can rest. No bullets, thank goodness. Anyhow, I also know my friends and they have special talents, which we need right now. Not that Buffy will be at her best, if she’s worn that dress. We’ll pray to the Goddess for some good luck. And Cordelia is probably just her normal self, but maybe not. It will depend on which store she shopped at. Well, and let’s hope Xander stuck to his plan. He’ll at least be helpful. If not, well, we’ll just have to be flexible. Stupid Ethan.”

“Ethan?”

“It’s a long story, but we have time. I’ll tell you on the way.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Mina carried the unconscious major like a bride and with the ease of the very strong, as they made their way down the chaotic streets of Sunnydale. Around them, monsters chased and snarled, ranging now in all sizes as the mayhem from grown-up celebrations joined the mix of the younger revelers. The travelers, however, were not all that affected as Willow’s shield provided them a grace and protection as they walked and, aside from Dawn, who simply had not yet been trained, all of the women present knew how to defend themselves. 

Dr. Noble, who preferred Dr. Donna for some reason, shared an umbrella with Dr. Magnus and they used them to shove things away whenever some creature got too near. It was oddly effective, as the umbrellas had both the bluntness of a staff, the reach of a sword, and the surprise element of opening suddenly. From Helen’s perspective, they would have been perfect if they’d had a sword implanted in the handle, but life didn’t hand one everything on silver platters.

They all listened, especially Dawn, with fascination as Willow explained some very pertinent facts about the night and their location. She offered, as exclamation points, words like, “That explains so much!” but otherwise kept her opinion to herself as she didn’t want Willow to suddenly clam up because she said the wrong thing. She was learning more in this one night than she had in the whole time they’d been in Sunnydale. 

They arrived at Willow’s next planned location just in time to hear a woman scream, “Bad Dog! Bad Dog!” She was also in the process of pummelling it with a heavy stick.

“Well,” said Willow, “That part’s new. But I see Cordelia still went out with Dogfaced Boy. You know, I think Xander really was a step up for her.”

Dawn immediately covered her ears and said, “Eww. I did not just hear that!”

“Don’t worry, it didn’t last, though maybe it should have. My fault they broke up, actually. So maybe this time I’ll do better and it won’t turn out quite so awful.”

“You really have no worries about spoilers, do you, Willow?” Dr. Donna said with some admiration. “I don’t know whether to be appalled or to applause.”

Because Willow was a long-time geek, she knew instinctively what the other redhead meant. “Well, from my perspective, life is change anyway and I never thought much of the whole paradox idea. If it happens, it happens, but also it’s meant to happen, so why fuss. Finally, we have an obligation, if we can, to change something for the better in the now. I don’t hold with the notion that just because something was the way it was, it was better. It isn’t always so. Sometimes things just need changing.” Willow’s eyes held the look of one who had seen far too much and her voice the sound of one who had heard too many things. Still, she shrugged as if it were no big deal. They started toward Cordelia about the same time as another person did.

Despite herself, and even though, really, she knew better, Willow called out. “Xander!” Then, she jogged forward, which sort of pushed the others to go with her. 

The young man in question did not respond to the name. He was dressed in what looked like a suit, with award ribbons on one side of the chest and a silky-looking shirt, and moving with deliberate speed to where Cordelia was busy defending herself. In one hand was a pistol shaped like something out of science fiction and in the other a sword. Willow mentally noted the difference in his costume choice, as last time it had been a simple soldier, but she continued toward him anyhow. They were there just in time to watch the Dogboy get zapped to unconsciousness with a quip. “Down boy.”

“Well, you might not be Xander right now, but I bet you two would get along,” said Willow.

The man’s attention flickered first to Cordelia, who was giving the prone creature a kick for emphasis, and then to Willow. He then offered an easy smile, “Fair lady, do you know where I am?”

“I know where you are, who you really are, but not who you are now. You, whomever you are, are currently occupying the body of my long-time friend Xander. We are currently in Sunnydale, California. It is Halloween night.”

“Interesting.”

“So. Got a name? I’m Willow. Willow Rosenberg.”

“Jame. Jame Retief of the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne,” He smiled a very winning and utterly potent smile. 

“Oh. Boy. Um. Welcome to Earth.” Willow looked as if she were going to say something and then grimaced and turned her attention to the tall brunette. “Cordelia are you still you, or someone else.”

“Of course, I’m me! Who else would I be?” Then she lifted a floppy piece of torn clothing. But behind her, her tail was swishing back and forth angrily like a cat’s, as if it were real. "Ugh, my costume is ruined! There is no way that I'm going to get that costume deposit back." She gave the unconscious Dogboy another kick of aggravation.

Willow decided not to tempt fate and say anything.

“People have been turning into their costumes. Dr. Magnus says it’s a Quantum Re-imaging,” Dawn supplied helpfully.

Cordelia who had always been smart, just not prone to show off about it, nodded despite herself. She glanced back at Xander, “Well, it’s done him some favors, anyhow.”

Jame aka Xander looked down at himself, “Well, that does explain the suit.” Then he looked around at the chaos, “And all the non-humans.”

“Oh, that’s not the half of it, but come on. We still need to find Buffy and get Major Carter to a safe haven.”

“What’s a Buffy?” Jame asked.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Buffy, it turned out, was not screaming in fear or running from the cars. That she happened to be in approximately the same location was mere happenstance. That she was still not quite Buffy at the moment, was situational. That she was surrounded by what looked like a dozen tiny robots, all of them holding what looked like wooden spears, was extraordinary. 

Willow, despite herself and even though she knew better and despite the fact that the tiny robots all turned as one, like an honor guard, to look at her and her group, couldn’t help the exclamation. “Buffy?” She drew closer, but didn’t try to reach out to her friend. Behind her and beside her, the group who was with her formed their own protective guard.

It was the tone, more than the name, which caused the Slayer to look at them. It also led her to smile. “I think you know me, but I don’t know you and the me inside says you’re a friend.”

Willow took in what she was seeing, even as she replied. Technically, it was the same dress, but there had been alterations. Buffy had a toolbelt slung over one shoulder and the biggest wrench Willow had ever seen over the other. The dress’ original underskirts seemed to have disappeared, while the shoes were boots, not the slippers of the past. Also, the dress was mussed and smudged and torn; there would be no return of the item. The Slayer’s confident stance also changed, becoming even more-so. Whomever this woman was, she was not the fearful lady of Willow’s past. Finally, she was still blonde, which meant the wig was somewhere else. “So, you know you’re not you, but you seem okay with that?” She interpreted.

“Exactly. I’m used to having mental passengers and Buffy and I have been having a lovely conversation, as she’s one of the nicer and less sneaky ones. She says, ‘Hi, Willow. What’s the what?’ Oh, and call me Agatha.”

“Agatha. Hi. Buffy. Hi. Yeah, Buff has always been pretty straightforward. The what, is that we’re dealing with forces of magical chaos and the usual Hellmouth stuff. The tiny demons are really kids who have been transformed into their costume. Same for a good portion of the adults. Dawn is herself, as is Cordelia, mostly. I think Cordy has had a little upgrade, but it could just be the costume.”

“What?!” Cordy exclaimed, her tail swishing angrily. Then it seemed to reach forward and poke Willow on the shoulder. The witch turned and looked pointedly at Cordy, who being strong willed managed both not to back down and not to scream in surprise at her own actions. She shrugged and then ground out. “You’re going to fix this!” She said as both threat and demand.

Willow turned back to Agatha, without replying and pointed at their only male companion, “Xander is Jame Retief, a useful diplomat.”

“Hey! Well, thank you! I think.”

Willow wasn’t the only one who smiled, but it held grimness. “We’ve got injured. We need to get to Giles, but we also need to head to your house because we’ve got injured. Agatha, did you make all these or were they part of the costume?”

“Made ‘em. It’s my thing.”

Willow found herself grinning, despite herself. “Buffy-in-Agatha, You’ll have to tell me how you ended up with the toolbelt. As I specifically recall you were going as someone much less capable. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

“Buffy says, ‘What can I say? I was getting ready when mom asked me to find it so she could grab it tomorrow in the morning for the office. She has something that has to go on the wall or something and there was this doodad in the belt she had to have. I picked it up and the next thing I know, me and Agatha are up close and personal. When I realized things were hinky, figured you all might be in trouble and I better find you.’” Agatha blinked and shifted the hammer. The little robot warriors watched everyone with caution, but seemed to relax at the same time.

“Wow. Gotcha. Okay, timing is everything and now we’ve all found each other, which is of the good. Let me do some quick introductions and then let’s get this show on the road.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

By now, because they were an obvious group, there were much fewer attempts by waylaying creatures. This was probably fortunate, as they were all of them, with the exception of the robots and of Mina, who was actually looking at Willow as if this were something she might have expected of her, staring somewhat gape-mouthed at their destination.

The house, was technically still there, though it seemed to have risen several feet and gained height of its own as well; at least a couple of stories. It was surrounded by a tall, thick stone wall, which had crosses and sigils built in differing color stone, along its width and sconces of light spaced evenly along the exterior, illuminating those decorations and the sidewalk as well. The crosses were composed of long wooden stakes seeming pressed into indentures in the wall, in such a way, that you could pull them right out of the wall and use them for weapons, if needed and still leave the protection of the cross visible. If one canted one’s head up at the correct angle by chance, every now and then a pair of red, glowing eyes hidden in the shadow of the night seemed to peek out from the top. As the eyes were reminiscent of the ones on the little robot cadre that clanked along with them protectively, one might guess what was possibly patrolling the wall.

The Summers’ residence, which once blended in with a whole neighborhood of houses just like it, now stood out like a beacon. Or a fortress in the dark. And still people walked by it, or in the case of the transformations ran, caught by the magic of Sunnydale’s aura of obliviousness.

“Is Mom in there?” Dawn finally managed, without sputtering. She kept looking back and forth between where her abode and the other houses were. Somehow the walls seemed to encompass only their property, but at the same time, from the looks of things, their property had expanded.

It had to be more of that chaotic magic.

“What happened?” Willow said at the same time. This whole trip and she’d managed not to be particularly boggled by events, but this new thing was stretching even her imagination.

“I think this may be one of my most favorite things ever,” Jame said, also at the same time. “Though I don’t really know why, it just gives me a giddy, happy feeling. I have a strange urge to dance badly. I never dance badly.”

“You know, I probably should have been more specific with the clanks, but I thought ‘take care of the house and Mom‘ would be obvious enough that, well, they’d just protect the house and Mom. I had no idea that they might have a theme in mind ....” Agatha said, blending with the rest of the speakers and then fading out a little haplessly as she gazed up at what seemed to be a miniature castle tower behind the fortress-like walls. She was aware that from a personality point of view, Joyce was not her mother, but she was Buffy’s and the young woman had such good thoughts about her mother, that it sort of merged with her idea of what a good mother was. Her own mother left much to be desired, as she tried to take over her body at every opportunity. Agatha was fine with claiming Joyce as family. In fact, she preferred it. Finally she replied to Dawn. “I think Mom is still in there. Somewhere. Or rather, she was when I left, and since I said to...”

“Take care of mom...” Dawn’s eyes went wide. 

“Yes. Exactly,” Agatha said, appreciating that Dawn understood the implications.

“We need to get in there right now,” Willow said, as she also understood that things had gotten quite out of hand. Then she backed up a bit. “Mina, I’m sorry but...”

“Religious symbols can not harm me.” Mina said evenly, almost patiently. She nodded down at the woman in her arms. “And she needs a stable location. I believe, as per your original plan, that the residence is a safe haven. I can not fathom anything easily getting through those walls.”

Willow nodded, “That’s one of the things I’m worried about. Buffy? I mean Agatha? How do we get in?”

Agatha cocked a brow. “Well, I would think it would be obvious.”

“Obvious?”

Dr. Donna pointed at a space a little farther down, where thick square posts larger than the wall were positioned as an obvious entry point, “I believe she means we ought to go toward the gate.” The gates were some sort of thick steel, but they had an implantation of giant red crosses within a green magical seal. As on the wall, the gates were strongly illuminated. Unnoticed by the advancing party, as they had not yet actually looked down, there was already dust and blood scattered upon the sidewalk in front of the gates; there were, however, no bodies to be found.

“Or if you prefer, you might call them the giant doors,” Dawn quipped, as they drew closer. “Those are the strangest knockers I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen that many mind you...”

“The question is not whether they are strange,” said Dr. Magnus with an odd, growing serenity. She was surrounded by the bizarre and in some ways that meant she was completely in her element. She stepped toward one of the doors and grasped one giant roundish knob, lifting it with effort. “The question is, do they work?” She let it drop. 

CLANG! 

Dr. Magnus grinned. “It works.”

“Ooh, that’s gonna play havoc with the neighborhood code,” Dawn said.

“Dawn, I think your house is way beyond that now,” Willow replied.

Suddenly other sounds emanated; clonks, shuffs, another clang or two at a much softer range and then finally a blocky set of sounds. Then the gates began to slowly open, swinging to the inside.


	3. Chapter 3

BTVS: In League Pt 3

\-----BTVS multi-----

Halloween - Sunnydale, California

\-----BTVS multi-----

For some reason, no one was in a real hurry to step through that opening. Willow’s glance slid to Agatha-Buffy and then to Dawn. “I think one of you ought to go first.” 

The elder sister’s hand settled on the younger girl’s shoulder, before she could start marching through. “I got this.” Willow, who to this point had been so focused on survival that she hadn’t really been processing the impact of her travels, became super aware of the distinct lack of difference in height. Dawn was shorter. 

And she found herself grappling with another awareness, which caught at her breath, just as the Slayer in her Halloween form stepped into the gloom of the entryway. 

Mina spoke, picking up on some almost invisible signal, since Willow was well practiced these days in keeping a neutral expression when she wanted to. “Are you okay?” 

The redhead flicked a glance up at the taller woman. “Oh sure. Just dandy.” The smile could almost be mistaken for real. 

Mina frowned slightly, as if she knew that was Willow was fibbing, but had not decided if it were important to bring it up again. 

“Having a bit of a time-wallow are we?” Dr. Donna said cheerfully and with surprising perceptiveness. “I know the feeling. Been to three universes that were almost like my original. Met four different incarnations of my mother, which was a treat.” She patted Willow on the back. “Travelers like us learn to deal with it, though from your reaction...”

“I tried to avoid going into the towns. Just in case. I wanted to be in the right world, and I was only supposed to go back a few years. Not decades.” And, given all the changes, she now worried that she’d somehow missed. Though she had been so certain... “I just... I need to be able to think. Haven’t had much chance for that given everything. But, maybe...” She looked up at the edifice she was about to enter and considered that things were very different now; and not just because she’d arrived early. Maybe... maybe they had a little more time.

“Ah. Well, gird yourself. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to be gob-smacked later. I’d just as soon carry on in there than out here.”

Willow exhaled sharply. “Right. Right. Girding and going. That’s what we’re doing. Everyone in.”

“You know,” Dawn said as she stepped through next, “I don’t think Casa Summers quite fits the place any more. Maybe fortress of doom.”

“No doom,” Willow said and she stepped out of the way to signal the others forward. She planned on going last. “There will be no dooming here.”

Jame-Xander, however, also seemed to want the spot, and added his own take, “Castle Summers has a nice ring, and actually, if you consider the origins of the word, then Casa Summers remains in the running.”

“Fine,” Dawn’s voice could be heard in the distance, “But I kind of liked doom better.”

Willow won, if only by the dint of a hearty shove with just a touch of magical push. Jame oofed and then was in and she had her place as the rear guard; not technically a usual place for a mage, as most times they earned the center in a trek, but she was a very powerful magical person and not as weak as might be assumed; at least, not any more. Although, that didn’t make her so awesome she couldn’t get trapped; as had been proved by her having to go through all this in the first place.

The heavy gate closed behind them and nothing followed, which, in a way, made the whole point moot. They continued forward.

The gloom gave way to a low glow of light almost as immediately as they stepped through the portal. Instead of being in the yard as Willow expected, they had funneled into a long hallway, one that seemed to slope down rather than up or even just on a flat plane. “How did they,” Willow began and then shook her head. “What am I saying? Magic. I know this.”

“Magic and science!” they heard Agatha-Buffy’s voice in the distance. “Plus, the clanks are very effective at what they do. I’ve had them disable the traps, so don’t worry about any weird steps or wall bits that move a tad. They know you’re friendlies.”

“Fascinating,” Dr. Magnus exclaimed. She seemed curious and amused about everything they were encountering. The hallway dipped even further and another door, this time open, appeared on the horizon. “You mentioned we were in California?”

“Hmm. Oh yeah. Sunnydale. Not exactly earthquake free, but...,” Willow gazed around, taking in the arches and posts that shored up the passageway and, apparently, the house that now rested upon the structure, “I have a feeling this is pretty stable, at least compared to other places around here. There are actually a bunch of caves and well, there is the Hellmouth...”

“We really do have to get to a point where we can have a deeper situational report of sorts. Your explanations have been interesting and informative, but there seems to be so much that needs to be known. That is, if you don’t mind me making the suggestion.”

“Oh. Sure. I agree. Everyone needs to get more informed than vampires bad, don’t kill the little monsters and Halloween is weird in Sunnydale this year. Absolutely. I have no problem with giving the low-down past the high-points. Just, everything has been happening so fast. Though, why that should surprise me, I do not know, as I know exactly what Hellmouths are like and certainly have seen more than my share of mystical hoe-downs.”

“Vampires are bad.” The words, which floated back toward the speakers, were flat and curt. 

“Except for you, Mina.” Willow said with the surety born of someone who’d read the other person rather thoroughly during their all too brief contact. She winced a little at the reply, as really, that did not even begin to encompass what really needed to be said between them and she wasn’t entirely sure that Mina really qualified as a vampire in the strictest sense of the term. But she continued the thought, because Dr. Magnus needed to understand a few things. “And Angel and Spike, although, he isn’t good yet. He’s got a ways to go. That is, if things flow they way they did before, which, I can’t see how that will still happen so we may end up dusting him. Which is too bad, since he’s fun to have around when he’s not being all toothy and grr. And actually, sometimes when he is being. Well, and there are probably others, as my worldview has expanded a bit given certain events in life, but we’re talking Sunnydale and we don’t exactly attract the friendly ones around here.”

“So then, you do not destroy all abnormals?”

“Abnormals?”

“Advanced or altered human beings...”

“Dr. Magnus, the things I, we, fight... well, you’ll learn if you stay long enough. I can say, no, I don’t kill everything that’s different than me, so if you’re worried about the ethics, don’t. However, if you’re thinking that the creatures here are simply misunderstood, you are out of your league and not merely wrong, but dangerously so. But you’ll learn if you want to live. Or you’ll move, which might be the better of the two options. I mean, if we don’t find a way to send you back where you came from.”

“I’d ask if you ever breathe, but of course, you do.”

“Yeah. I just babble. Nerves and after awhile, habit. These days I just try to make sure I at least stay on topic.”

For some reason, that just made Dr. Magnus smile even more. 

At the end of the passageway was another vast door, which Willow suspected led back into the transformed abode. It was open and they passed through quickly into the next space, a big unfinished room, with sets of doors on each wall and two double stairs, one to her left and one to her right. She paused along with everyone else in the middle of the room; except for the shortest blonde there.

Agatha-Buffy strode forward with confidence, randomly picking a door to open. Hand still on the doorknob, she yanked and they all took a step back as the sound of wild things roaring and growling erupted. Then there were the appendages, which was a nice way of saying rough looking claws and tentacles which pushed out, searching for a hapless victim. The small blonde kicked those things back into the darkened room and abruptly slammed the door shut. “Whoops. Not that one,” she chuckled.

“Agatha-Buffy? What the heck?”

“Right. Well. I think some of the rooms may not be quite done yet or are, um, you know, traps. Either that or they’re working on holding cells, and that’s not done yet either. So... we probably need a guide.” The inventor-slayer propped one hand on her hip and the other she lifted to her lips, two fingertips crossed. The whistle that followed was piercing and oddly musical. 

The little metal creatures, the ones which had been pacing them like an honor guard, suddenly moved to attention, marching forward quickly. It sounded like a rhythmic hard brass rain. Willow managed not to gape as Agatha-Buffy was surrounded by those metalic minions, plus those who arrived from places unknown, as if teleported. The shortest blonde of the group proceeded to hold a conversation in an impossible, but beautifully musical language.

“Okay,” Willow said quietly, “Who else here feels the need for a language interpretation spell.”

Jame, turned to look at her. “How permanent and how broad? I only ask because I am in desperate need of an interpretation device at … well... home. The one they gave me is....” He raised his hands in a mute gesture, as if he hesitated to say, but Willow knew enough of the shenanigans of his universe to guess. 

“Oh,” Willow blinked. “I don’t know if it would carry over, and I suppose I could make it permanent, but there are always risks if you do that. It’s usually something I cast on an object rather than a person. And, mostly I was just commenting, because, you know, I trust Buffy. Well, and I suppose Agatha, by extension.”

Jame looked vaguely disappointed and then brightened, “If I said I was willing to risk it?”

“I’d point out that you were wearing the body of my friend Xander who...” Willow paused and considered, “... would probably love it and take full advantage of it to order twinkies in Klingon. That is, if Klingons had a version of twinkies. Anyone else care to take the risk? I will point out, wild magic is definitely in play and while I am confident in my abilities, none of what has gone on so far has been according to my plans.”

“Lay it on me Willow,” Dawn laughed.

Other words of general agreement or in the case of Dr. Donna who said, “Probably won’t affect me, thanks,” and the unconscious Major who offered nothing against all added to the tally of Aye. Meanwhile, Agatha-Buffy was too busy negotiating or whatever she was doing to pay attention. She might have had something to say about it, given that Buffy’s idea about Willow were decades behind who she really was.

In fact, Willow, if she weren’t so distracted by the myriad things going weird, might have considered the possible consequences further if she weren’t caught up in just trying to get people to safety and through the event. She was usually much faster and more careful, thoughtful and wise about her decision-making process. She had learned from her life experiences and they formed her to be a well rounded, intellectual and magical person, who was maybe more on the playful side, but then... that was magic. Perhaps it was just the distraction of all the different energy that was so very potent, swirling about her, filling her. Her eyes had yet to settle on one color or the other in its glow, but she found herself ignoring the niggle of worry in the back of her mind. On the other hand, there was also over-thinking, and she tried to avoid that too. They had a need, the intention was good and, a quick meditation would get her centered and clear headed and while she had used a great deal of power this night, there was plenty within the walls that surrounded them. She could draw upon what was part of the forming house, the earth and perhaps, one of the energized shards for what should be a simple transformative spell.

With that thought in mind, she summoned a small shard from the bag in her pocket, pulling it into her reality with a practiced ease. She loved her pockets.

Carefully clasping the shard in her palm and then shaping her hand into a fist over it, she began a simple chant, allowing herself to drop into a useful mindspace, which in turn, allowed her to form a point of intention that started with Understanding and Communication and became ropey threads of ideas in her mind.

Really, if she’d been thinking clearly, she might have considered that temporary telepathy might have been a better idea. 

Even so, the magic was at work and the crystal pulsed in her hand, like a heartbeat. She felt the arcane threads move and twist. The crystal suddenly felt restless in her hand. It began to shimmer and shake. Still she continued to chant. With every new word, the energy whirled around her, at first invisible but growing lighter and brighter and faster until it glowed around her and through her. Those around her turned away from the brightness.

Compelled, her fist compressed. The crystal shattered and exploded in her hand. Blood poured from her palm, dripping around the jagged edges pooling on the floor, in the light which penetrated the surface of the ground and herself.

Blood to blood, hers to that which had started that first chain of power, sang and expanded. Her hair and eyes turned blood red, shining viridian and then a brilliant white. That light that was her, blazed outward, shocking and booming forward as if it were lightening. It arced, piercing thick wild energy, dark and light magic, the earth and sky. Then it flung itself down like the fingers of god. Light seared their eyes, their minds, their bodies. It scoured them, flung outward, crossing lines and time and space. Universes collided in them, whole worlds of memory and lives. Sins and sacrifices. Loves found, won and lost. Secrets kept were utterly revealed.

Nothing was hidden. Nothing could be hidden, though it could be muddled enough to need to be sorted through later. Past and future collided like the whirlwind. The alien among them could not hide either. This high magic did not care about their beginnings and their what-ifs. It did not care if they belonged in one world or another. It changed things, changed them. Pulled some forward and pushed some back.

They couldn’t even cry out, couldn’t even add their voices to the song of breaking and reforming that scored through them and through those that belonged to them. Their realities bent and reframed.

It happened in an instant. It took forever.

When the magic finished, those who danced in the grip of this new power dropped like puppets with their strings cut, immutably altered and unconscious.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Willow woke rather abruptly, for a person who had just been unconscious for an unknown amount of time. Her face squinched in reflex to her first thought, which was ‘Oops.’ Again. She had no way of knowing the consequences yet; how deep they went, how far and how impactful. Despite its brevity, the scope, however felt much like her experience with the scythe and that was with the monumental amount of control that she technically, normally had.

Wild magic was only fun if you knew the tides, but she hadn’t really had a chance to adjust to any of that and her mind, thinking back on it, had definitely been assaulted by the sensations of it. 

“It’s okay, Willow.” Buffy’s voice sounded very close and the words weren’t said very loudly. Willow winced anyway. A hand gently petted her forehead, drifting back down her scalp a little. “There was no way for you to know. And, it did help. With heaping dollops of odd, but...”

“Buffy, is my head in your lap?”

Willow could hear the smile in the reply, “Yes. We thought you’d feel better if you knew I wasn’t mad first.”

“Yeah. That kind of does help.”

“You ever gonna open your eyes?”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Agatha...”

“Is downstairs handling the Jagers.”

Willow winced again. “Where are we?”

“Sunnydale. It’s still technically Halloween. But, hmm. The town has expanded some. Which is kind of problematic, since Ethan desperately requires a fist to the face, but now we can’t find him. But we will. No worries there. Agatha has the clanks looking for the Janus Bust. Because, well, yeah, lost store and all.”

“Oh Goddess. I am never opening my eyes.”

“Well, the good news is that you got us straightened out into to the right persons. Mostly. And the language interpretation is totally a go.”

“Uh-huh.” Willow put her palms to her eyes.

“Maybe we’re all not quite at the right age, but... hey, no more worries about Mom knowing I’m a Slayer.”

Willow dropped her hand, opened her eyes and looked up at her dearest friend. “Buff...”

“Shh. So, yeah, there are unintended consequences and we definitely have to talk some of this out.” A still youthful looking Buffy leaned forward, but while Willow could see the shadows of a long past there, she still looked very much like herself, if only a little older. But then, Buffy had always been that way. She could pass for sixteen up to her early twenties still. The slayer pressed her lips to an astonished Willow’s lips in a simple kiss and then kissed her forehead for good measure, before smiling down at the redhead. “At least now I know where you are, oh, steps-blithely-into-traps-woman. And...” The smile was perhaps a little misty. “You gave me Mom, again....” Then her smile quirked. “Come on. Dawn wants to either thank you for the new boobs or chastise you for getting captured in the first place. Her mind is still settling from the shift. So probably both. But she wanted hang with Mom for a bit. Needed some bonding time. Oh, and Faith called. She’s on her way from Boston. She bitched about not having that nifty teleportation amulet on her, but said she’d be here as soon as possible.”

“Buffy I...”

“Willow, did I mention the point of my being here, right now, was so you would know I wasn’t mad?”

“Yes. But Buffy, I didn’t mean to...”

“Did I mention Mom?”

“Well, yes, but apparently I dragged you from a future...”

“That may not happen now, blah blah. Yeah, Sam, Helen, Mina and Donna are all on about that right now. Geeking right out. Agatha would be too, except, you know, she’s setting up the house some more and riding herd on the minions.”

“Why are you taking this in stride? I’m about to gibber here.”

“Willow, you just gave me the best present a person has ever given me.” The redhead blinked and Buffy’s smile warmed. “You gave me a do-over.” Then she leaned closer, her expression slightly wicked, “And a whole lot of firepower.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

In a way, it was a relief. She might not look like it, but the Buffy she walked with now was a woman who had the confidence of years of leadership behind her and she exuded a power that had grown with time; as Slayers got stronger as they aged. And Buffy was the Alpha Slayer. The sleek blonde’s arm wrapped around Willow’s waist, wordlessly providing support and comfort, which worked really well right until they came to what might be described as a very expanded, and busy, family room.

They were not immediately noticed, which gave the redhead a chance to scan the room, taking in details that threatened to overwhelm the very thin layer of calm she clung to. One one side of the room, she spotted Xander, who was now taller and more broad-shouldered and possessing, thank Goddess and wasn’t that just amazing, both eyes. However, from one eye a light form was cast, a projection that should have been only possible with the patch she’d formed for him. He was showing it off to his companions. Or maybe just now discovering this new gift for himself. This caused Willow a bit of inner-gibber, but she bit her tongue, because necessity meant she had to see the rest. 

Xander was sitting near another man, dark haired, blue-eyed, and debonair; Jame Retief as himself, and though he had apparently been as affected by the rapid change of circumstance as the rest of them, he seemed quite content or at least, confident without being arrogant. That had been, she recalled, one of the things she’d liked about him in the books. And now he was quite real, and wore a tuxedo like he was born to it. As soon as he spotted Willow, he flashed a sparkling, genuine smile in her direction; before turning it to the person who sat between them. 

Cordelia, like Buffy, looked more mature, yet at the same time youthful. One hand was being held by Xander. The other was emphasizing something she’d just said. Her expression was amazingly peaceful, and serene, which Willow considered, made some sense. High School was stressful and a young woman who had to constantly be on top, also constantly had to watch her back. Well, and there was the fact that she was also a woman from the future transformed. But here, in she could be herself, because she was safe with them. 

Willow’s knees felt a little melty. Because there were implications and permutations about relationships and fundamental aspects of the intimacies which had been poured through them, which she was now beginning to grasp. She felt Buffy’s arm tighten around her, and Willow definitely drew comfort from it. The witch deliberately drew in a calming breath before continuing to take in the room, focusing first on the physical senses, but unable to ignore the awareness of fine, intangible lines that swirled and ribboned in delicate, but infinitely strong ties. 

Seeing Joyce was more of a shock than she had planned on. It was one thing to know intellectually, and even to know on that other primal level of magical connection, but quite another to see. “Wow,” she uttered softly. “She looks so good.” 

“Yeah,” Buffy whispered back. “She really does.” The slayer squeezed Willow gently.

“Why does Dawn have a tiny flag in her hand?” Willow asked as Buffy’s sister, now svelte, stacked and almost as tall as Cordelia stalked toward them with wicked gleam in her eye.

“I have no idea,” Buffy avowed, even as her sister arrived.

The younger woman didn’t quite pounce, but she stuck a flag in Willow’s hair and said with a giggle. “I claim you in the name of Dawnlandia! Now, maybe you won’t get lost. And, hey, I thought I was the one who was supposed to get kidnapped on Tuesdays.” Then with a happy squeal, she grabbed the witch into a huge hug, and gave her a breathtaking kiss. “Willow, have I told you how much I love you lately?”

“Um...”

“Well, let me just say, you are the awesome! But if you’re gonna put us on a timey-wimey, reality bending journey, next time let us bring some stuff. Now Xander has to buy new rings and toys. Not that he wouldn’t have to do that anyhow, given a few minor details. But now he and hubby-boy have a bunch of them to get. They just haven’t got the cash flow yet. But we’ll fix that. Which reminds me, Andrew called. He’s on his way with his...” Dawn crooked her fingers, “... ‘ancient of days’ computer, which is just cheesing him out, but we’ll deal. He’ll tweak and it’ll be enough that we can start hacking the Watcher’s Funds. Among other things. I see new businesses in the horizon. Or at least buying in on them early, like from right at the beginning. They won’t see us coming.” She paused a moment to let out a wild laugh of mad accounting glee. “Wahahahhah.” Then she turned a little more serious. “Also, he says, his brother has been whammied back into the little leagues. He thought if he got a do-over, his brother could get one too, in the opposite direction. He thinks a five-year old shouldn’t be too much trouble for us. He’s not told me how he explained it to his parents, but, hey, not our problem now.”

“Dawn, breathe,” Buffy said, eyes glinting with amusement. 

“Right. Breathing is good. But telling is better. Giles-Dad called and he’s Mr. Cranky because a certain shop is not where it is supposed to be.”

“Ah, the Ethan fist thing. I hope that man is running, because a lot of us want a piece of his hide.”

“Not me. I think we’re ahead by a kazillion points, people and aspect-wise, but I have a theory...”

“A theory...”

“Well, I think it’s time-local Scoobs and friends, mostly. We should expect them to trickle in, as they get a chance. Oh, and Angel came running while you and Willow were otherwise occupied. He had that whole gonna rescue people thing going and then left as soon as he saw the wall. Didn’t try to say hi or even call. I don’t think Angel is...” Again Dawn used the quotation marks. “...’with us.’ If you get what I mean. I think the Fang Gang, aside from Cordelia, is pretty much on its own path.”

“Seriously. You’re calling them Fang Gang?” Buffy asked.

“Hey, you knew who I was talking about as soon as I said it...” Dawn shrugged and grinned. “We might… and I say this tentatively, based on the barest hint of possibility, hear from Spike. It’s like he has some decision-making to do or something. But I can’t get a sense of him like I do of Mina. She’s definitely ours and more.”

“So you feel it too?” Willow asked, intrigued. She resisted the urge to touch her neck, feeling the briefest flare of heat where Mina’s teeth had been. She had yet to look in the mirror, but she suspected that, even healed perfectly, there were two specifically shaped, very sexy dots now.

“Feel it. See it. Tastes like chicken.” Dawn laughed at the witch’s expression. “Joking. It tastes way better and sweeter than that. But my point is that, aside from the minion types, who got drawn in with us when the world changed and are apparently just minions, mostly, I think we know family when we feel ‘em. And I mean it in the happy tingles kind of way, especially. Mm. Yeah.”

“Gah. Not listening. Sensitive sister ears.” Buffy grumped, comically.

“Yeah, like you’re not kinky. We all know the truth now. But then, we knew the truth then too. Can we say Slayer Sandwich. I knew we could. I will be gracious and not bring up your older-than-dirt thing.”

“Hey!” Buffy protested. 

Dawn just grinned unrepentantly. “Okay, I’ll behave. Especially since that’d be me calling kettle-and-pot. At least on the sandwich thing. Speaking of which, I think I might be hungry. Gotta find the kitchen. We need a map for this place now.”

“I think I need to go scrub my brain now.” Buffy said, staring incredulously at her sister as she rambled information that really didn’t need to be shared. She might be used to Dawn’s mostly useless mind-to-mouth filter, but still, there were some things she just didn’t want (or need) to know. Even if some of it was true. “With bleach. Or lye. Maybe both.”

“Are you sure you didn’t get switched up with Anya somewhere?” Willow asked, with great trepidation. 

“Naw. I’ve always been forthright, which you well know. Besides, it’s too fun pushing Buffy’s buttons.” Even as she said this, she paused long enough to kiss her sister’s cheek. “But, hey, enough chit-chat I got things to do and such. Agatha promised she’d set up a control room so we can get started on the pillaging and I want to get Andrew situated, because I have some definite targets in mind this go around. I’ll let you know when it’s all ready, Willow, so you can play hacker too.”

Willow, despite her astonishment had been grinning for a little while now, but that smile widened even further. “I look forward to it.”

By the time Dawn left, the ability to just stand by and watch was pretty much done in. They were waved over by Joyce, to a space where the group seating had obviously been expanded by those willing to pull the available soft chairs around. Either that, or sit on the ground, like the newly healed Sam was. She happened to be leaning against Donna’s legs and looked supremely comfortable doing it. Helen was similarly situated, only with Mina curled up behind her. Joyce had one chair claimed, while Dawn had given up hers and another seat had been left vacant in anticipation of Willow’s arrival. It was apparent that they would need to purchase furniture, though that wasn’t the highest priority at the moment.

It was probably that connection. Or maybe it was mom-radar. Or just, Joyce being free to be observant about her world again, now that the veil about her daughters and world had been lifted. Or, perhaps, it was because this wasn’t the first time it happened. But she started standing, almost as soon as Willow broke from Buffy’s support to run. She was fully upright by the time the redhead rocketed into her arms, colliding softly in a long, strong clasp, with Willow’s arms flung tight around her; as if she might disappear any second.

“Oh Goddess! I missed you so, so, so, so very much.” It was a breathy whisper of a greeting, not quite tearful, but only just.

Joyce held her back without reservation and kept her own greeting simple. After all, from her point of view, she’d just seen Willow. But that did not mean, she did not know and did not understand the why of it. It also helped that both Buffy and Dawn had reacted to her presence in similar fashions. “Hello, Willow.”

The younger, or was it now older woman in a youthful body, hugged Joyce tighter and elder Summers was suddenly grateful that Willow’s strength was of the magical kind, not merely the mystical. She couldn’t help the warm smile, one that was reflected back at her by Buffy. 

A few moments later and, by unspoken agreement, they pulled back from one another. Joyce looked down at Willow and said, “You going to be okay?”

Willow, still slightly wordless, nodded emphatically. She was now.

\-----BTVS multi-----


	4. Chapter 4

BTVS: In League Pt. 4

\-----BTVS multi-----

Halloween - Sunnydale, California

\-----BTVS multi-----

If Willow was worried about conversational flow being altered by their arrival, she let it go quickly. It turned out that inter-universal geniuses and women of a certain age could always find common ground. Words bandied about might be arcane, but that wasn’t so unusual around the people Willow tended to associate with anyhow. She was also reminded that Joyce was no slouch in the intellect department. 

Sure, Joyce might have been in denial about reality, because it wounded her to have her daughter so endangered, but once that had been leveraged away by practicalities and once she accepted Buffy’s destiny, she had always been an intelligent contributor. 

Willow glanced at the matriarch and received a warm smile.

Joyce found herself thinking along similar lines, though perhaps she wasn’t completely aware of it. She was still getting used to the mild empathy that seemed to come with their new circumstances. She was also tracking her natural awareness of everything occurring within her transformed and transforming home, and that sparked memories, which she associated with the beginning; including her plans to preserve her family.

After all, she was the one who had planned her daughter’s rescue from the institution Hank had placed her in and then secured her children’s safety by divorcing him; that he had been shagging the secretary had merely been icing on the cake. Though Buffy didn’t know it at the time (though she surely knew it now), the very public arguments had been a grandly-scaled bit of playacting on her mother’s part. And upon arriving at Sunnydale, Joyce had worked hard toward simplifying her life, because, really raising her smarter-than-average girls required her attention. She had, obviously, already known about her children’s aptitude. Parent’s received the major test results from the school system and then, again, they were her daughters, by blood and bone. 

Joyce had always known that Dawn was hers and that the girl was more than a fixed memory. Dawn had, perhaps, been immaculately conceived, as Hank had no part of it and they had both known that, which was another added pressure and reason that their marriage crumbled. Joyce had been faithful and had tried to explain that she did not know how it had happened and she wasn’t inclined to try and “fake” him into fatherhood, as she honestly felt she shouldn’t have to. The problem had been that she only vaguely remembered an encounter, but it hadn’t felt real, somehow. She thought, at the time, that she had been drugged and taken. Unfortunately, she had no proof, other than the fact she was pregnant, and no means of identifying anyone. She didn’t even remember drinking that night.

Hank, despite Joyce’s emotional trauma, did not believe her and had held that disbelief over her so he could justify his own behavior. She still stung over the accusations of, “It isn’t even mine.” His lack of support for her had been difficult and painful to accept, as she had loved him once. But the counselor Joyce had gone to had said that his reactions weren’t unusual and that Joyce wasn’t the only one who had to deal with spouses who “did not get it,” and that ultimately, it was up to Joyce to decide what she should do.

Whatever Hank’s choices, Joyce had decided to keep her child. And, despite himself, Hank had softened upon Dawn’s birth and had accepted the duties of fatherhood without further accusation. He was not entirely evil, just very self-centered and hard to live with when things did not go as he wished them to. It wasn’t until that situation with Buffy and the escalation of his contact with those damn lawyers, that she’d been forced to re-prioritize and make some hard survival choices.

On the other side, now she had proof in hand and those in her ‘true-family’ understood what she did. Dawn had always been real. It was simply Joyce’s memory of the encounter, which had been false. As was the information that the girl-who-was-key was only a memory. That had been an implant of an idea designed to sow discord and distrust. The monk had, infected by Glory’s torture and confused by the absolute need to keep his secrets, had unwittingly played into the original Glory’s games.

As for making a living, the art gallery had been a safe means to an end, one that Joyce’s ex had no interest in trying to grab. It was below him, which was fine for her; as she thought his dealings with Wolf, Ram and Hart had become dangerous. 

Now that she had shared “mind,” even temporarily, with her family, she knew her intuition had been very spot on and she wondered how much influence the lawyers had on him after Buffy’s encounters at her original school. After all, the name of the institution had come from somewhere. Joyce dreaded to think that perhaps her whole family had been under WR&H’s dire imprint once Hank took position in their firm. She could practically hear the conversation in her head. "Well, Mr. Summers, your assistance has indeed been invaluable. We would appreciate further service if you are willing. To sweeten the deal, so to speak, we have heard of the troubles with your daughter, and are willing to give you a hand in getting her remedy." Hank did like to be helpful when it payed well. 

Meanwhile, at the gallery, if she had her hand in some small amount of antiquities smuggling, or in most cases, returning goods to some very interesting contacts, well, it helped ends to meet. It was not so much true smuggling on her part, though those who came to her believed it was, so much as her shop being a place where goods found her and she found where they should actually go. Not that she could stop all the possible purchases. A certain amount of veracity was important, but there had been a reason that Sunnydale, of all places, had been chosen; and it wasn’t that the house prices were good.

Joyce did have her resources. Lady Croft, an old friend she’d met on travels pre-marriage days, was a very generous donor, among others. After all, Buffy’s clothing budget had to come from somewhere and she had two daughters to raise. 

With the mixing of realities, Joyce was even more intelligently and actively inclined; now that she could do so openly. It was something she found she was quite enjoying.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Halloween - On the Road

\-----BTVS multi----- 

Ironically, in a way, Faith had already been on her way toward Sunnydale. The young potential had been grappling with a harsh new reality for weeks, surviving via a profound streetwise intelligence and a gutsy decision-making process that had indicated a maturity way beyond her age. Also, she stole a motorcycle.

Or maybe inherited it. The ethics of the acquirement had to do with whether one understood that one kept what had been won in battle. The creature who had tried to kill her, had died by her hand, even if it was somewhat circumstantial and a case of amazing luck. So from her perspective, his stuff had become her stuff; especially as there was no one else to give it to. At least, now she realized, he had been nice enough to discard his jacket before dying. Of course, that had been because he didn’t want to, “... get your filthy human blood...” on it. 

He’d also been quite chatty while he chased her all over a back alley. Faith had long ago learned not to turn her back on threats, unless you could run faster than them, and she’d also learned that bigger people had meaner punches, so she’d learned to avoid them. Her body was flexible and strong, but even she had known when the vampire had ripped out a steel bar from a fire escape, that she was facing something bigger and badder than her.

Plenty of those in life without them being blood suckers, but she’d not spent any time worrying about impossible things gone real. She was a survivor. 

She also knew, based on what it told her, that she had to get the hell out of Boston, because some Greek maniac had heard from his ‘seers’ that she had a destiny. Faith went to school and the library was one of her favorite hangouts, and not just because the librarians kept kids who hung out in them in line. She knew the makings of a Greek mythical tragedy when she saw one and had no desire to be part of his nutball future.

Which meant leaving, fast and furious, and using the money and the keys that the dusted vampire had provided her. And my, that had been a goodly hunk of change, which also spoke to a certain amount being on her head. Faith might play ignorant, but she was a young woman of her culture. She knew what that kind of money meant when it was all cash. Bounty. 

Thus she hadn’t even bothered with going home. Instead she’d gone to the bolt-hole she kept for the days when being around her mother and her friends was a bad idea. That’s where she kept the stuff she wanted anyhow. She packed quickly and was out of Boston faster than one could say, ‘Tea Party.’

She’d been taking a winding circuitous route, feeling a vague push west that had grown stronger the more she’d followed it. At first she’d been a little afraid to, but just as much as she’d felt that push west, she’d felt a repulsion when she headed east or northeast or southeast or any way away from the direction she’d been going. 

She hadn’t understood the why of it, but she’d not ignored it either. Her upbringing held just enough original Irish to know when a path was a path. So, maybe that Greek destiny thing wasn’t total crock, but if the guy was paying money to stop her, she had to find a way to make sure she lived through it. The one thing the vampire had been very convincing about was the idea that if she thought it was bad, she should see the other guy. 

The premonitory willies had been enough to keep her on the road for hours.

When the flash of change hit, Faith was in Kansas City. She’d been lucky she had stopped for the night and found a room. It hadn’t been much of one, though she could have afforded better, but she didn’t want to flash cash around. She didn’t know how long she’d be running and she wasn’t gonna lose what she had. A fake ID had been enough to clinch the deal and then she’d had a place to shower and snooze. She’d parked the bike in front of the door. A maid wouldn’t try and get around that, but something big enough to move it and Faith would wake up and be ready.

When the Slayer had awakened, and indeed it was an awakening, she’d had all the strength and knowing of her days and it had been with a full awareness of the blend of realities. It was possible she might have been able then to just turn around and go confront the great bastard Kakistos on her own and do so quite successfully, as she was no fledgling. But she had much more immediately wanted to be “home” with her family; her clan. Her pack. 

Energized by the transition, Faith had made the call, to a very old, but remembered phone number and after, she cleared out and then had got back on the road. At the speed she was going, it would be less than twenty-four hours before her arrival. That suited her just fine. 

Besides, Buffy knew what was coming down the pike, as did the rest of the original Scoobs. They could prepare a welcome the Master vampire would not survive. After all, the Greek’s seers were right. She was going to kill him.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Halloween - Seattle, Washington

\-----BTVS multi-----

Kendra was a creature of duty, raised by the Watcher to be a weapon against the dark. She was also a slayer, competent in vampire killing, but not so much in polite society. Not that she had much to do with society, as she tended to work nights.

When the great tides of the world changed, she was on American soil. Seattle was indeed a big city, fraught with beauty and danger. It also had more than its fair-share of Master vampires. 

She was fighting two, though at the time of the shift, it was more of a fleeing for higher ground kind of thing. Spike the Bloody and Drusilla the Seer were not easy kills, as proven by other slayers dead. From the vampires’ perspective, they had a reputation to uphold and it seemed to hold with their current quest that a slayer’s blood should be on the menu. After all, they would need strength for Sunnydale. They had intended to arrive there earlier, but had been led by the odd hint from one of Kakistos’ seers to seek a treasure in New York first.

From Kendra’s perspective, she had a service to perform. She just needed the right place. So she kept looking for that higher ground, which would give her both advantage and protection.

They all felt the shift, as it wasn’t subtle at all. In an instant, Kendra knew that her Alpha and Beta had come into being and had felt instantly drawn into a desire to find or contact them. She did not need to understand the why and how, as the desire was not yet a compulsion. What she knew, however, was that if she survived the night, she would be heading west. 

Meanwhile, Spike and Drusilla were struggling to come to grips with the torrent of information that had been thrust into them. It slowed them down some. However, as neither of them had their souls return, just the memories of another world and time, they weren’t hindered that much. “My god, what a nightmare,” Spike said as he clutched his head. “As if!” Yet at the same time, the love he felt was genuine and maddening and absurdly permanent. But it made him wild with grief and pain and need. In his feral state, it was the sort of thing that made him bite and hurt things.

“Spike, the stars have changed. They’re all awhirl. Make it stop!” Drusilla demanded. She curled up, crouching on the ground. “I want Miss Edith. I need her!”

Spike wished he could just go get her, but the Doll was currently at their latest lair and the hunt was still technically on. “Still need to get a bite to eat, don’t we. And slayer makes for a delicious meal. You wanted slayer, right,” he growled. 

Madness crawled through the vampire-seer’s gaze. “Yes. Yes! Slayer’s blood will make it right. Family is as family does. She comes, the great one. She knows the blood. But Daddy will fade right away. Oh, Spike. The stars scream for him.”

“They always do, love.” He reached down, ignoring the headache, and pulled the dark beauty upright and under the protective cover of his arm. “Let’s go get our dinner.” Fortunately for some, their complete focus was on the Slayer they knew was in the vicinity. It never occurred to look elsewhere. “We’ll go find him after we’ve had a bit of dinner, yeah.” He took in a deep breath and then called out a great howling, a wolf to his prey, “Oh Slayer! Time to Eat!”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Halloween - On the Road and Sunnydale, California

\-----BTVS multi-----

Kendra’s new queens, Buffy and Faith felt it sharply as the young chosen one’s life snuffed out. Not every slayer felt the loss, nor did Buffy and Faith feel every slayer go, but this time they knew it like a gut punch. 

The loss of Kendra hurt not just because it was the loss of a slayer, but because they had both thought they’d have time, because the memory was, Kendra died in Sunnydale. In some ways they’d almost been blithe about knowing that. As they both knew of Kendra’s death, as they both felt the sting of loss, they also felt that fluttering feel of a ghostly hunter searching, seeking. 

Faith pulled over, suddenly aware that the repulsion of “east,” had eased considerably. She realized then that it wasn’t just Kakistos’ presence and a potential’s intuition that pushed her away. Another layer of direction had been on top of that. After all, couldn’t have both potential and the slayer at risk. So, the second reason for her flight was that Kendra was in that direction. Then the big shift had happened and she’d not really tasted the reasons or the feeling again, had worked it into what she wanted anyway, but now she understood, it was half as likely she would have gone toward the junior slayer to collect her, if she hadn’t been thoroughly caught up in running “home.” Hand to chest and tears in eyes, she realized a truth. “Oh, those fucking cheating fuckers.”

Buffy, who had been lacing a worthy pair of boots and readying to go hunt Ethan, stood up to find out that she wasn’t alone in the room any more. “Whistler,” she managed, the word sharpened and toothy by her grief and instant anger, but otherwise courteous. “What brings you my way?”

The balance demon shook his head, “You would think they’d be able to tell the difference between me and him, but...” He shrugged and took off his hat, laying it on his heart. “I guess I’m not that important.” His eyes gleamed. “I am here to play messenger.”

“It’s the clothes. But, shit, you too Whistler?”

“On the one hand, it’s nice to know a few things before they lay it out. On the other hand, it’s useless if they mess around with it.” He shrugged. “I’ve been sent to warn you to play nice.”

Buffy tasted the word, “Nice.” Then she picked up her stake. The one that was not Mr. Pointy. “And Kendra...”

“A warning.”

Buffy laid a fingertip on the sharp end, pressing lightly, blooding the stick as a kind of ritual. “Ah. A warning. They used a sister’s life to issue a warning. That’s... sporting of them.” 

“Better one life than... Oh, who am I kidding? They don’t know what you did, they don’t know how you did it, but they’re up in arms, kiddo. They’ve been hot footing around to figure out what to do and now they have all new plans and they want those plans moving forward and if they have to nudge you, they’re going to.”

“Well, that was mighty clear of you, Whistler. I practically don’t have to figure that one out on my own at all.” Buffy’s expression went even grimmer. “And I’ll thank you, but I won’t thank them. If they think we'll forget what they just did, they are sadly, perhaps even fatally, mistaken. Is that all the message, Whistler?”

“Pretty much. Anything you want me to take back?”

“Take back. Now, interesting offer there. I guess you are new boy too. Good thing, cause ‘killing the messenger’ really does feel like a suitable response. Offended they didn’t care?”

“How can I be offended at them being what they are?”

“Of course you are. Okay, here’s a message.” She flung the stake toward the balance demon. It whistled past his ear and, impossibly, plunged into the stone wall behind him. “Fuck with me and mine and I will surely fuck with them. I got loads of subtle now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t go hard way with them on a downbeat. They get this one time, Whistler. This one warning. And I know you’re just messenger-boying it now, but I suggest you find a way to lay low when they ignore what I say out of some pompous belief that they know what the game is now.”

“I take it that last bit isn’t part of the message.”

“Not for them, anyhow. You and I, we have an almost friendly history. I’d hate to mess that up.”

“And here I thought you wanted my rib-cage as a hat.”

“Not stylish enough. Oh, and, just between you and me, those fuckers aren’t the only one with power. Not any more. I’m older than I look. And we both know there were reasons they kept us slayers young.” The slayer’s eyes took on a glow, turning amber. 

“Right. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Go while you can.”

The balance demon tipped his hat respectfully, then, in a puff of air, disappeared.

Buffy, her eyes still glowing, stepped back a bit, growling lightly. “Try to mess with my slayers will they?”

The slayer essence moved on a plane that was above and below the mortal scene, seeking its new host. The Queen of Slayers, the Slayer-Alpha, closed her eyes and caught it in her metaphysical fingers. ‘Hello. I think I know just where I’ll put you.’

The slayer essence wasn’t going anywhere for a little while. Let those Powers that be meddlers think on that one for awhile.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Halloween - Sunnydale, California

\-----BTVS multi-----

Earlier that night, a guitarist had been driving his van through the streets of Sunnydale on the way to a gig. Daniel Ozbourne, Oz to his friends, was a brilliant young man, prone to quiet individuality. He normally dyed his hair, painted his nails (all of them), wore jewelry to match his mood. He was known not because of his brain, but because of his band, Dingoes Ate My Baby, which satisfied his creative exhibitionist side. He was in high school because he wanted to graduate with his peers, not because he needed to be there.

Like all of those who had not worn a costume or were holding items originating from a certain shop, Oz felt a wave of power and potential wash through him. Fortunately for him, he'd been at a stop sign, which gave him the excuse he needed to sit back a moment and mentally regroup.

As he prepared to lay his foot to the gas again, he was startled to see a woman jay-run screaming across the road, followed by a roaring thing of claws and fur. He blinked a moment, then shook his head and his only other reaction was an exhale of, "Huh."

Then, he started again, once it seemed safe.

That lasted not even a minute, as another person, male this time, ran screaming pell-mell across the road in front of him. He was followed by a giant lizard man.

Oz began to think it might be a good idea to just head home. However, he had a work ethic, which meant he was going to that gig.

Much careful driving later, he arrived and realized that from a practical standpoint, there wasn't going to be a gig tonight.

However, he saw a couple of his band-mates standing around, watching things. He pulled up. Rolled his window down. "Hey."

"Oz."

"We playing tonight?"

"Think it's been canceled man. We were just waiting to tell you."

"Cool. Need a ride?"

Though they'd arrived separately, it was a legitimate question. There was a reason Oz had a van. It was a simple thing, white on the outside, some seats and space on the inside. It suited his needs.

Equipment was loaded and then so were the band-mates and then Oz was driving careful again.

On the way, something big whizzed by overhead, but with the weirdness of the night, the young man didn't even think about it given the oddity of the night. Everyone got home, things got unloaded. And then he was off again, heading for his own abode.

Despite everything, Oz didn't think it had been a bad night so far. The gig might have been blown, but his parents were gone for the night, having had a party invite in Los Angeles to attend. He'd have the house to himself and it had been awhile since he'd had a quality gaming session. Now he was kind of looking forward to it, which is why he had a small smile of anticipation going as he turned down his road.

That smile drifted as soon as he saw the devastation of his yard. The ground and the middle of the sidewalk that lead to the front door had been utterly torn up, as if a giant farmer with a giant fiery plow had decided, 'Let's plant here,' and parted the front yard in half, curving toward the road, only to stop just before it. Pockets of smoke and flickering light rose from the great divot in the ground. The house was fine, but the fence that separated their yard from the neighbors had been crumpled. He really hoped his parents had good insurance.

Amongst the heap of wood and wire, was a very big object and if Oz had been pressed to provide an opinion, he would have said it had to be a space ship. Though he would have to get a little closer to have a real opinion about it.

As the driveway was destroyed, Oz had no choice but to park on the road. So he did, leaving what he thought would be enough space for a truck to maneuver later to get the thing out of his yard. Of course, knowing his parents, it might be his van doing the honors, but he didn't really have a problem with that. It had been part of the original deal when they let him buy the van, that he'd help out with any lifting and carrying when necessary. 

Oz got out of the van, going through the side door. He grabbed the emergency fire-suppressor, a necessity given the age of some of the equipment he and his band used, and headed to his yard to quell the small fires. He started at the driveway, spritzing the white foam in bursts, until he'd gotten closer to the cause of the catastrophe.

Then, because excellence was a thing, he finished what he'd started, spraying around the metallic item in careful shots until the fire was utterly stamped out and all that was left was misty smoke and white air.

This all happened fairly quickly and by the time the mist was disintegrating, Oz was once more alert to the fact that strange things were happening. Loud and terrible noises that weren't usual and not local to the object or his car could be heard in the neighborhood, and he once again was aware that monsters both tiny and tall were scattered about.

It was time to head indoors.

Just as he was having that thought, the sound of popping, hissing and metal clanging rang close.

A hatch had been opened.

Oz stepped back, lifting the nozzle on the fire suppressor defensively. He watched with a kind of impassivity as a womanly figure, blonde hair-do akilter, copper skin and what looked to be an officer’s outfit mussed, tumbled out with a vague cry of discomfort. She maneuvered into a slumping sitting position, managing then to look at him as she pressed a hand to her head. Her other hand lay in her lap. Oz noted the badge on her chest, the belted weapon at her side, noted how she didn't appear to be making any dangerous moves and decided to see what the results would be if he spoke.

"You alright there?"

She looked at him with big blue eyes, which glimmered with tears. Then she spoke to him in gibberish.

They looked at each other for a moment longer, then when a loud bang was heard in the distance, they both startled a bit.

"It's not safe out here," Oz said, as he let go of the nozzle of the fire suppressor. He stepped forward then, offering his empty hand. "We should go inside."

She chattered at him again, looking almost hopeful. He kept his expression mostly neutral, waiting.

She grasped his hand and he was relieved that her hand felt warm in his.

After that, it was a matter of leading her into the house, getting some ice for her head, and watching as she held the icepack to her head, gazed around and took in the frontroom. He took a moment to look out the window. The chaos was expanding, though it seemed the spaceship in his yard was enough to keep the weirder things away. He wondered if he should call his parents, then decided that they'd find out soon enough.

The woman chattered at him and he turned to look at her. "I don't understand."

She pressed a hand to her chest, speaking slowly. "Mihoshi."

Oh. Right. Names.

He followed her example. "Oz."

She smiled cheerfully at him and nodded to herself, which prompted an immediate wince.

Oz smiled at her, feeling oddly reassured. She smiled even more at him.

Then there was a flash and his whole world changed.

\-----BTVS multi-----

When Oz awakened next, he knew several things at once. It was in no particular order, other than that his senses had reawakened, yet he no longer felt that constant compelling urge that came from being were. At the same time, he knew he could shift if he wanted to. He could feel the touch of wildness under his skin and he also knew it like he knew he had pack and they were close. He also knew he was prone on the ground and that someone was with him. 

He opened his eyes and discovered that, apparently, “Oh,” or its variant was a universal response of surprise.

The alien woman babbled. It reminded him of Willow, the girl whose name he now knew very well. “You’re awake! Thank goodness. You just fell down and then...Wait, why am I saying this. You can’t understand me.”

“Actually....”

She gasped and then slapped her hands together in miniature applause. “Oh, the translator is working. Hurray!”

Oz didn’t have the heart to point out that it was unlikely, but he did offer another one of his quiet smiles as he sat up and took stock. He glanced at the spaceship and then at his house; his parent’s house. He was aware that he now had another option, but wasn’t quite ready to address it, especially since he had a guest and that needed some investigation.

“I think we ought to go inside. I need to think and maybe make some calls,” he said. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Tea would be wonderful. Do you have dajer?”

“Unlikely. But there should be some green tea or earl grey.”

“Ah. Well. Yes, I would love some.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Ethan, who upon retrospect, really should have known better than to have tried such a wide reaching spell on a hellmouth, even if it was fun, had found himself a place to hide. Sunnydale had been full of empty warehouses, right until realities collided. He did not know how that one had happened and was fully prepared to counter anything Ripper might say with, “It wasn’t me.”

He was kind of looking forward to that part. Taunting his old friend was a delightful pastime, even if it did involve bloody lips now and then. The tall, slim man smiled to himself. Sure he was greying, but he did keep young at heart. 

Thus the bust of Janus that he had been carrying with him. Though he had to set it down often, as the bursts of power that erupted were quite overwhelming. Each one led to a new, stronger and sometimes stranger change. 

But in a way, that helped, as it kept the riff-raff from following him. Some creatures might be drawn to mystical energy, but most knew when to keep away. Even Ethan had considered sequestering the bust in some likely hiding spot, but then he wouldn’t get to have his moment of confrontation; which was now seeming less and less likely. Usually by now Ripper would have gone all macho and tossed a door or two down.

Ethan, however, was giving a little slack, as the world had changed. After all, Sunnydale did not start out with a surrounding fortified wall with towers. It was all very medieval. It was also quite entertaining. 

The Chaos wizard glanced at the bust, set upon a crate. Other than glowing, there really wasn’t much to set it apart from other small statues. Too bad there weren’t any extra statues in here. That might have provided some extra value. On the other hand, dawn was approaching quickly and the magic would soon be over anyhow and the effects should fade. In theory.

A distant crash and a bull-like masculine shout of, “Ethan!” brought a wide grin to the wizard’s face. Ah. Finally. Ripper. The games would commence. With a skip in his step, he found himself a likely shadowy spot and waited for his playmate to appear.

\-----BTVS multi-----

His heart about burst out of his chest when he saw his old friend. The man was transformed. Ethan couldn’t help the giggle, clapping his hands to his mouth to keep the noise from escaping. 

Well. Apparently there was a reason Rupert’s voice had been a little deeper than normal; other than irritation, of course. Look at the size of those hands. 

And my, he had gotten tall. And firm. Fair skinned, as always, but oh those muscles. The pants were shreds and there was very little hiding that size mattered there too. The jacket was long gone, as was his shirt and that magnificent chest was broad across, emphasizing those wide shoulders. And those horns, all sweeping and dangerous and magnificent. As was that the tall scythe, the kind that brought in grain or men, gripped easily in Rupert’s hand. The blood, he was sure, had started off fake, but now who knew, as it dripped with the life essence of something or another. Ethan wondered who had talked Ripper into playing dress-up. He couldn’t recall any horns that size in his catalog. Though he had distributed several scythes.

He watched as Rupert drew in a deep breath and then exhale a bellow of, “I can smell you, Ethan! You might as well come out now.” Then the Slayer’s Watcher lifted the reaper-scythe threateningly “Don’t make me come looking for you.”

Deciding that hiding wouldn’t do him any favors now, Ethan stepped out. “You know, that’s a shockingly good look on you. How did it happen?”

For a moment, Ethan thought Rupert wouldn’t answer, or couldn’t. The growl was terribly fearsome, as was the nearness of the blade to his forehead. But then the blade withdrew. Rupert was apparently in more control that others might have been in similar circumstances. “It was a gift from a woman. She thought I was being too uptight. I wanted to humor her. She had one of those ridiculous headbands with tiny horns on them.” Rupert’s gaze slid to the scythe, “And one of these. Then there was magic.”

Ethan winced, suddenly feeling a slight burst of conscience. His imagination, after all, was quite active and he knew that tone. “And the woman?”

Flame seemed to leap in Rupert’s eyes. “Satiated. For now.” Jenny’s costume had been a companion piece of sorts, a halo, another headband of horns, and a very skimpy outfit. He was only wearing pants out of a sense of decency. And the fact that his mind had been returned to him by the next event. The library would never be the same however. He doubted the destruction of the bust would return the tables to their previous condition. And if certain other events hadn’t happened, he wasn’t entirely sure how he might have faced Jenny afterwards. Even now he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to face anyone. 

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Where is the bust, Ethan.” 

“Ah, you never take time to just talk. We could have tea. It’s almost morning anyhow.”

Ethan didn’t really even see the fist that connected with his face, but he surely felt it. He suspected that the punch was pulled just the slightest, as he was still conscious. It was a little heartwarming actually. It seemed Rupert did care, and really, that’s all he wanted to know.

“Fine, if you’re going to be that way,” Ethan sighed as he wiped at his nose. “I’ll tell you where the bust is. But only if you tell me...”

Oh yes, size made a difference. 

\-----BTVS multi-----

When the world flashed one last time and those who knew such things, breathed a sigh of relief as the whirlwinds of wild magic settled into their normal, hellmouthy parameters and the majority of survivors reclaimed their normal forms. On a certain side of town, Ethan could be seen with a blackened eye, a bloody nose, adjusting his trousers and easing into a wincing walk. Still, even though he was unhappy on one level, he couldn’t help smirking. He’d definitely gotten Ripper’s attention. 

Rupert had promised to call him. On a regular basis. It might not be like old days, but at least now he didn’t feel as if he were out in the cold any more. He might be walking funny for days, but the swats had been worth it. 

\-----BTVS multi-----


	5. Chapter 5

BTVS: In League Pt. 5 

 

All Hallow’s Eve 1997 - New York

\-----BTVS multi-----

The theme of the Halloween Ball 1997 at Elias Clarke was Once Upon a Time. The Lady Miranda Priestly, new owner of the international publishing company, was resplendent as Glinda the Good, without any irony in her perspective at all, and danced with her very current husband, Stephen Thomlinson, who attended as The Wizard. He, personally, thought the fact that she went as Glinda was hilarious, but he loved her so he kept his mouth shut and his amusement to himself; a wise choice. They fit together well, enjoying the moment, even though Miranda’s diamond studded tiara kept slipping upon her white-silver locks; something that would have bothered her at any other time, except that it gave Stephen an excuse to thread his fingers through her hair to resettle the crown.

Unlike Miranda, whose strawberry blonde changed hue and shade at the birth of her children, Stephen’s brunet hair was only just beginning to hint at silver in his sideburns and just above his ears. The change was flattering to him, adding a distinguishment to his generally handsome features. His other charm was his smile, genuine and loving, which encompassed his whole expression and crinkled the side of his eyes whenever he glanced at Miranda. He was one of a handful of people who could engender a full smile in return simply by existing.

She loved this man and he loved her, and their passion was as fresh as the day they were married; two months ago.

As they swayed to a stop with the music, Stephen made an offer of refreshment; something light, but wet. The way he made the request caused a pleasant shade of pink to grace her cheeks. She had discovered that she still wasn’t past being surprised with him. It was a happy discovery and yet another reason on her mental list of why she married him. Miranda accepted as they walked away from the dance floor. Behind them, Miranda’s assistant followed them like a subtle butterfly. It was an apt metaphor, as the young woman was dressed as a fairy and had about as much weight, emotionally, as one.

At their table, Stephen held out her chair in invitation and Miranda settled gracefully down like a queen to the throne. He smiled briefly at her and then at those who seemed to gather so instantaneously to her presence and then left her to her networking; a constant thing, necessary to the survival of her more public efforts. It was, after all, something he understood as he was ambitious himself, a lawyer, with an eye toward a future in politics.

He only just stepped away when all the lights, the golden ballroom chandeliers included, flickered, faded out. The world flashed a bright white. Then everything seemed to go back to normal and he continued on his way. After all, power shortages were nothing to worry about.

\-----BTVS multi-----

It was habit that kept Miranda smiling. No one noticed that the smile was less real than the costumes many wore. It was strength of will that kept her greetings pleasant. Her assistant didn’t notice that she did not have to say names before Miranda was already using them. It was brilliance that kept what she said meaningful with those she spoke to, while her mind scrambled to assimilate, process, calculate and extrapolate all the things involved in what had just happened. No one noticed, because she had perfected the attentive-receptive party expression long ago, even before the change enacted by the blast of incredibly potent magic, which had poured through her in an instant and altered the very fabric of her being.

Memories of a whole lifetime, one filled with accomplishments and sorrows, adventures and boredom, grave disappointment and deep joy, were filtered through the lens of the present. Miranda instantly knew who, where, and when she was. She even knew what she was and the implications and permutations thereof. She also knew she was far, far more than she had ever been previous to this moment. Glinda did not have a patch on her, though they did have things in common; power and ability amongst them.

Still she needed a few moments to regroup and sat down at one of the ubiquitous seats with far more grace than she was actually feeling.

She was unsurprised when a cell phone rang. Cell phones weren’t necessarily entirely uncommon at this point, but they also were not yet ubiquitous. Her assistants, however, were required to always have one on hand and she also carried one under normal circumstances. Her evenings assistant, Clarice, assigned by Elias Clark as a courtesy, offered a startled, “Pardon me,” still not used to having to answer a phone so publicly. The black phone did not weigh much, but it was thick in one’s palm, slightly smaller than a traditional handset, though capable of texting, which was a godsend.

Miranda had forgotten, in that brief span, how clunky the past could be. Her expression, however, remained somewhat neutral as her assistant’s blanked after answering the phone. “It’s uh, for you, Miranda. Caroline.”

The editor’s hand extended imperiously and the phone was passed to her like a baton. “Bobbsey,” she said as she brought the device to her ear, keeping her tone light.

“Oh Em Gee, mom! Thank god you’re there.” The use of OMG as an actual phrase was very 22nd century, but the young voice was very much within the current 21st. Miranda heard a five year old complain, “Where are you and what the fuck just happened?” Her first sense of amazement wasn’t just because she always thought of her daughters as young. It was because she had an immediate sense of displacement. Her daughter now had the intonation of a child, something that at oldest memory, she most definitely not had been any longer. The phrasing told Miranda quite a bit, not least of which was that others had been affected by time-travel and that her daughters trusted her to respond with love and some sort of answer, regardless of whether that time travel had included herself. This awareness both angered her and gave her an abiding sense of love; reinforcing the long and deep affection she had for her girls.

“Language.” It was a snap ingrained from a future that hadn’t happened yet. Her daughter would know and understand, almost as instantly as she; though possibly there would be cognitive issues based on the physical limitations of age. Or perhaps not. They would deal with that as or if they needed to. Miranda ignored the startled glance of the assistant, and waved off the admirers with a sharp, “Do you mind?” They scattered away like cockroaches. Miranda proceeded then and asked the more important question. “I am at tonight’s event, naturally. Are you and Cassidy alright?” She actually wanted to know more than that, but she would accept a fingers and toes report at the moment. She also knew Caroline would know this.

The silence after the question was almost comforting. Miranda knew, without being there, that the two were communicating in that twin-way they had. “Yeah,” Caroline finally admitted. “The only number that worked is this one and I only knew this one because it was on that post-it you left Emily and, by the way, she’s unconscious right now. I think she got hit by the same thing we did. So, we’re weirded out, but fine. Other than being kids, we got all our bits and pieces. Cassidy woke up cussing and broke off a chunk of the bed to make a stake. You know how she gets when she’s startled awake by the wrong person.”

Miranda resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. Yes. She knew. But she had hoped, given the pitch of her daughter’s voice, that certain things had been... well, set back also. No such luck. And, given what she knew of the year, this meant there were other possible problems to address as well. At least they weren’t stuck in a hotel room. It had made much more sense to rent a building, given the potential length of their stay. Even so, from her new perspective, it was still inherently dangerous. Their New York temporary home wasn’t even warded against the most mundane of magical searches. That would have to be rectified as immediately as possible. For the moment, however, they would have to rely on the castle-right blessings; such as they were. “Was there any... other damage involved?”

“No. The rest of the furniture and Emily are otherwise fine. But I think Cass and I are both smaller and taller at the same time. My pajamas don’t fit right. I couldn’t reach the phone in the kitchen without the bar chair. When is this?”

Miranda did not answer that directly. “How much candy did you and Cassidy acquire tonight?”

The query was enough. “Fuck it. Halloween. Oh, damn.”

This time Miranda did not bother to chastise. She appreciated the sentiment. “I’ll be home soon,” she soothed. “Why don’t you and Cassidy plan on staying indoors and watch a movie while Emily is … indisposed.” In normal circumstances she might suggest contacting the EMTs, but this was not normal and there was a good chance that Emily might wake up as different as herself. 

“And when when she wakes up, fake it till you make it?”

“Yes. Though, with Emily, I doubt you will have to fake it. Let her take care of you.”

The pause was short. “Okay,” Caroline finally said. “We’ll hang tight and we’ll do something about Aunty Em so she’s not just a lump on the floor. At least her pulse is okay. Glad you’re ... Just very glad, Mom.” Miranda knew what she meant. It was good to know that they weren’t alone; though the editor knew she would have been fine, if a touch distraught. But if her daughters had been alone to face this... It did not bear thinking. Caroline continued. “Hurry. Love you.”

“I shall. Mommy loves you.”

“Wow, it’s been a long time.”

“We’ll talk about it when I... we... get home.”

“We? Is...”

“Stephen will say goodnight when we get there.”

“Holy...”

“Indeed. Now, don’t worry. I’ll be there soon.”

Miranda pressed the button to switch off the phone, missing the ability to flip it closed already. She signaled her assistant. “Find Stephen, we’re going home. Call and get the car to the front. I need four phone numbers. I want them as soon as you acquire them.” Then she rattled off a series of instructions that had her assistant’s eyes rolling back like a wild animal caught in a trap. Miranda’s lips curled sardonically as she finished off with her signature, “That’s all,” because, of course that wasn’t all. It was simply the tip of the iceberg.

After that, Miranda made her way quickly to the exit, grabbing her outer covering from the frantic assistant, who had literally run ahead to get it. As she passed a window, she happened to catch a glimpse of her own reflection and nearly stopped. Her hair was still that sparkling iconic white, but features of maturity, even at this more youthful age, were gone and that could not be accounted to good make up.

Miranda’s brows rose at the awareness, but she forced herself to calm and prepare for the return to the car. Ignoring flashes of light from those wielding cameras, Miranda strode toward her vehicle. She glanced at her assistant, “Where is Stephen?” The question sounded like the hiss of a snake, even as her aspect was pleasant for the paparazzi.

“He’s on his way. He was on the other side of the building. Said he was stopped by a senator.”

Miranda nodded and strove for better composure. She was aware that she would face a conundrum as soon as he reappeared and had not yet settled on how to deal with it, or even if to make the attempt just yet. What she did know was that her emotions felt jumbled and knotted, which never put her in a pleasant frame of mind.

She got into the car and as she slid in, she was gratified to see that Stephen was actually hurrying, his expression grim and worried. Her door was shut by the driver before she could scoot over. In another life, a paltry handful of years later, her husband would have been like a different person; confrontational, angry at the thought that he had to leave just because she did. He might never have even showed up. Now though, the other side of the car opened and Stephen slid in. He said instantly, and with great concern, “What’s wrong? Is it the girls?”

Miranda felt a sudden catch and ache in her heart, unexpectedly painful. This was not the man who had affairs or who yelled or got drunk to soothe the aches away. This was not the man who nearly broke her and called in a divorce while she was out of town during the worst week of her life. This was the man she’d just married, the one who still trusted her, who loved her and her daughters and whom she loved.

That took her aback, quite a bit. It also clarified something for her, making some of her necessities very clear.

She kicked off her shoes, pressed the divider control so they could have privacy and, tucking one leg under, turned so she could face him more squarely.

“Wow,” he intoned, not able to help the comment. “You look... amazing.” He blinked, and continued, “I mean, I know I said that earlier, and I know this has to be an emergency, but....”

“Thank you, Stephen. I have always enjoyed your admiration when you gave it to me, however, I have very important things to tell you and you have some decisions to make.”

She was so firm in her expression, her intonation, that all he could do was sit back, blink, and say, “Okay.”

She reached out and took his hand, clasping it lightly. He had no reason yet to think of that behavior as unusual. She took a breath, exhaling slowly and then took another, gazing straight into his dark eyes. “Whatever I say, do not interrupt. Will you do this for me?”

He glanced at the divider and then back at her. His shoulders straightened. “Sure, Miranda. Anything you want.”

“This is not want. It’s need. Just listen. Everything I tell you will be the strict, absolute truth. It will seem unbelievable, but it will still be true. I will try to tell you all before we arrive home, so you will be prepared.”

He nodded.

She began. “In 1998, at six months, our son was born prematurely. He was a beautiful child, but did not survive.” His hand reflexively tightened upon hers and his mouth opened, but the sorrow in her sharp, unwavering gaze enforced silence. She continued. “We both handled the grief badly, you and I. I turned to work. You turned to alcohol. It did not get better, though we did try, at first ...”

The car started moving forward. Neither noticed. It was a long, shivery ride home.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Miranda did not truly expect Stephen to take what she said at face value. A good portion of the events and outcomes she described painted neither of them in a pleasant light; especially at first. Nor did she expect him to hold back his opinions once she finished, but her other lifetime had taught her that certain things required full disclosure and the willingness to discuss or argue, depending on the issue, as necessary. In this case, it also required demonstration.

He stared at the blue fire that hovered above her palm for a good half of a minute. Then, surprising her some, he used his free hand (he had yet to relinquish her other hand, despite certain inevitable and still true things she had told him) to reach forward. He didn’t touch the fire, but rather waved his fingers over the flame as if gaging the reality by feel. “It’s hot.”

If things weren’t so serious, she might have found amusement that his first words to her had nothing to do with some of the more pressing issues. She replied anyhow. “Yes.”

His, “Wow,” was a breathless exhalation.

Miranda let the fire flicker out. 

He looked back at her then. “That’s a neat trick Miranda, but... I can’t believe in a time where you stop loving me and I stopped loving you. And as for the rest of it ...y

Miranda extricated her hand from his and folded her hands together. She said, very cooly, “You were the one who filed for the divorce.” She did not add that she had begged and begged for them to work it out. She did not add that she had never stopped loving her husbands, including Stephen. She merely let them go; though she made the leaving very, very expensive to them.

Those words filled the air between them, settling heavily, and the car drew to a stop. They had arrived at the house.

“No,” Stephen whispered. “I don’t believe you.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Emily opened the door before they even had a chance to search for a key. She glanced at Miranda and then at Stephen and then said, “Mr. and Mrs. Priestly, I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“Thomlinson,” Stephen muttered, without really thinking about it.

Miranda waved all that off as she strode in, followed by a still stricken husband. “It’s not important. Don’t worry about it. Stephen and I will handle the details for the moment. You look as if you could use some rest” Then, shockingly, she turned her full gaze on Emily, eyes raking up and down quickly. 

Emily was taken aback. “No.. I mean, yes, I’m fine. I don’t... I don’t... need anything,” she finished weakly.

Miranda sniffed. “Is there anything of importance that I need to know, other than the condition and disposition of my children?”

“I... uh... No Miranda. Cassidy and Caroline are upstairs in the family room. They said you said they could watch a movie. I... was about to put them to bed...They’re fine.”

Miranda’s imperious gaze narrowed slightly, there was a moment’s pause, and then the older woman said, “Go to bed. If we need you we’ll wake you.” Then she leaned forward and whispered to the redhead, “We’ll talk later.”

Emily was suddenly relieved. “I could use a nap, I think.”

Miranda started up the stairs without looking back, her mind now on track for one thing. She knew her daughters had to be discombobulated if they hadn’t made an appearance yet. She went straight for the old family room, which was dimly lit by the large TV and a lamp set low.

She did not have to announce her presence, both girls were already standing and moving toward her. They had dressed themselves in large t-shirts, which she imagined they’d purloined from Stephen’s drawers. She opened her arms, knelt, and they practically flew into her embrace.

They clung. Their tiny bodies shook against hers. Miranda closed her eyes, struggling against an aimless wrath and a weird sense of gratitude. “I’ve got you. It’s going to be alright.”

“Mommy,” Cassidy whispered. “How can it be alright? We couldn’t find anyone and Emily wouldn’t let us on the internet because, I quote, “you’re not old enough.”

“I will let Emily know you are to have all the access you want next time and you let me worry about how to find our people.” Miranda said, though she knew informing the younger woman would likely be unnecessary now.

Caroline’s chuckle was more like a sob. “Oh Mom...”

“Is everything okay?” Stephen’s question caused both the girls to back up a little, though they still held to their mother. He gazed down at them all with worry and started to drop to a crouch.

“What is he doing here?”

“Cassidy?,” Stephen started in confusion, his expression shocked. He had never heard that tone in her voice before. It was so scathing and cold.

“I can not do this!” Cassidy exclaimed. This time she did break away from her mother to put distance between herself and the man behind her mother. The little girl’s arms went wide in frustration and she threw them down, making little fists by her side. “I can not do this, again!”

“Cass, we talked about this...” Caroline turned around and walked toward her sister, hands extended.

“That was before!” Cassidy railed. “And I am not just talking about him. I am talking about this whole thing. I mean look at us!” She waved her hand at herself.

Cassidy’s accusation toward him might as well have been an arrow to the chest. “But...,” Stephen said. “I’ve never... It wasn’t... I can’t have...”

“Your future self did,” Caroline said bluntly. “We know it wasn’t you-you. Right Cassidy?”

“It was him alright. Maybe not now-him, but he made those choices. And we all know the difference choice makes, don’t we Caroline? We chose to be strong. He chose to leave us, to leave Mom. He didn’t come back like Andy did ....”

“Cassidy, that is enough.”

“Andy. I … short for Andrew? Is that the name of your other …future spouse? You never did call me Steve. I need some air,” Stephen said, dazedly. He pressed his hand to his chest, as if it were breaking and he couldn’t keep it together. “I.... Cassidy, Caroline, I... would never mean to hurt you...” He stood up, somewhat wobbly.

Miranda grasped him by the arm, “Don’t go outside. The wards haven’t been set. Use the study. Stay inside, Stephen.” She gripped his arm tighter. “Please. I’ll come see you in a moment. We will talk. I have to...”

“I get it,” he said, blinking rapidly. The sides of his eyes were visibly wet. “I’ll...” He walked away without finishing the thought, hand still at his chest.

Miranda’s lips compressed and then she turned toward her daughters. This time she stood up. The girls stilled. Miranda walked toward them and then past them to the couch. “Come and sit with me,” she said.

She waited until they were settled, then wrapped her arms around them and drew her daughters close. She didn’t start speaking immediately, waiting until she felt them physically relax a bit more against her. Then she began, “The first thing you need to know, my darlings, is that I love you and that we will work through this together.”

“Mom...”

“Shh. I am speaking. You will listen, Cassidy. Caroline.” She settled back further into the couch, providing a subtle reinforcement of comfort, even though her words were slightly sharp. “Here is what we know. You and I are not where or when we were at our last oldest memory. We know that this world is similar to where we have been before, enough so that we look like ourselves enough to recognize ourselves, but also to see the greater differences. We are all much younger than we were. This is, I think, appropriate to the method of travel we must have experienced.

“I have discovered that there is great power that can be tapped in this reality. I believe this provides us with great advantages we would not otherwise have. I also know I am operating under the assumption that if there is power to be tapped in this reality, there are dangerous equivalents also. I require you to also take this perspective. I have questions for you, that will help me to make some decisions that will help to keep us safe. But first, I have requests.

“First, I ask that you trust me.” Cassidy started to speak, but stilled at her mother’s glance. “I recognize that you are uncomfortable. I am also. We will find out whether our circumstances are permanent and whether we have a changeable situation or not. We will adapt and alter our circumstances as necessary, but we will do so with least amount of harm to others as possible.

“This includes, my darlings, not unnecessarily hurting the innocent. And that is my second request, which I shouldn’t have to make, but emotions are what they are. And yes, this does include Stephen...”

“But he....”

“Has done nothing more serious than love us and marry me,” Miranda said firmly. “The man in the study only knows of the future I have told him. He only knows what I believe at this moment and what he knows of me from his current experiences. He has been shockingly understanding and has not laid out any accusations in return. This is because of who he is now. We are and have been very lucky. We are together and not separated into different realities from one another. I realize this. Do you?”

It was a few moments, but in the end, Caroline and then Cassidy nodded their heads and leaned more directly into Miranda; who then breathed the first real calm breath she’d had since the event. “Good. Now, I have set certain things in motion, including getting contact information for certain people we have an interest in. While we have too many variables to take into full account and adjust for, we also have many things we can do for the moment. Not the least of which is exercise patience.” Then she smiled, “And we can always, always make plans. Do you agree?”

Cassidy offered a slow nod, “Yeah. I guess.”

“Sure,” Caroline said.

“Excellent. I am sure that I may have further request, either for patience or for a personal effort from you. Can I rely on you to do your part?”

“Of course,” Caroline said.

“Yes!” affirmed Cassidy.

“Then let us begin.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

The door was opened just a few moments after Miranda’s knock. She almost expected it not to be, but Stephen was exactly as she expected him to appear. Haggard and despondent, he gazed at her silently.

“Caroline and Cassidy have something they would like to say and show to you. May we enter?”

He glanced at the children by her side, his expression tightened at their stressed-hopeful looks, and then he stepped back, waving them in. He then took another step back as he realized that Miranda was carrying a long, black iron object; a crowbar.

Miranda said, as she passed him, her voice tinged with amusement, “Really, darling, we’re not here to murder you.”

The endearment also seemed to surprise him, though perhaps that should not have been one to Miranda after the conversations that had been had. So she couldn’t resist. “I’d be more likely to poison your Jack Daniels, than to bludgeon you to death.”

“Or set you on fire, Steve,” Caroline quipped as she entered the room next.

“Or turn you into a toad and then let you out on a high traffic day,” Cassidy added as she followed.

Stephen did a double-take at Caroline’s use of Steve and then, for some reason he found their casual morbid humor suddenly humorous and despite himself, he genuinely laughed. “I think I’d rather forgo death today, if that’s alright.”

“Well, if you insist, Steve, but we won’t be held accountable if you keel over once you hear what we have to say.” Cassidy said. “Mom, you and Steve need to sit down. Caroline and I will stay standing. That way we’re all at eye-view.”

“As you wish, Bobbsie,” Miranda said and she took a seat on the couch, laying the crowbar across her lap. Then she waited expectantly for her husband, eyebrow cocked as if in a dare. “Well?”

He chose to sit by her; perhaps not as closely as usual, but still, rather than take one of the recliners that were conversationally positioned, he made that choice. He saw a gleam in her eye that he hoped was positive. It was hard to say and his ego had already taken some battering; enough to get in the way of his usual ability to interpret her non-verbal signals. Not that he always had a sharp grasp on that anyhow. Mostly, he and she had relied on honest disclosure and affectionate gestures to convey the good in their relationship. He wondered, very fleetingly, whether that would continue. They hadn’t really discussed that part.

And with that thought, he realized he was beginning to really believe her now.

And because it mattered to him, he scooched a little closer. His excuse, if she asked, would be that he wanted to provide a solid front. The reality was, he wanted to quash the fear of losing her that had been rising in his gut; not that it really worked. Sitting beside her, however, gave him a sense of her physical presence and that had become warmly reassuring to him over the course of their time together, and despite everything this crazy evening had brought, it was grounding. More, she didn’t move away, and that... helped in ways he wasn’t prepared to articulate more formally.

What he did not do was casually throw his arm around her shoulders. Somehow this did not seem the night or the moment for it.

So, instead, he kept his attention forward on the two little girls who had taken a place in front of the coffee table. Their curly red hair caught the light of the lamp making them seem brighter. They stood with a kind of grace he hadn’t noticed in them before, relaxed without being lanky about it; their gaze seemed incredibly vigilant, assessing. He tried to put his finger on what was disturbing him about it, aside from that usual, young but wise thing that sometimes happened when children looked at a person.

“Okay, here’s the sitch,” Caroline began and she walked around the coffee table toward her mom, who carefully extended the crowbar to her daughter. She was technically taller than the crowbar, but not by much, yet she held it one handed, length pointed to the floor. “What you see and what we are, are two different things.” She then carried the tool with her until she was standing again by Cassidy. She raised her brow, a mimic of her mother, and then lifted the bar until she was holding horizontally, gripped by both of her tiny hands. “Watch and learn.”

“Stop. Wait. You could hurt yourself...” He started to rise, but felt Miranda clutch his arm and tug him back down. Then, he watched in boggled amazement as the thick iron bar began to slowly and impossibly bend.

“No,” Cassidy said. “It’s harder because our bodies are younger, but this doesn’t hurt. It just takes more effort. In our prime, we can turn this thing into artwork. We grow stronger, smarter and faster as we get older.”

“We?” Stephen managed in a sort of masculine squeak.

“Mom told you a little about things that go in the dark. I know, because she told us. She may not have mentioned that my sister and I are the things the monsters are afraid of.” She paused, “Well, normally. Right now we’re not sure what we are. We’re not really potentials, I think.”

“No. We’re still Slayers,” Caroline said as the bars shape continued to contort in her hand, forming a “U”. “We’re just short. And there is something different going on here, but I haven’t nailed what it is yet. So more than potentials; slayers.” She didn’t break a sweat, but the effort was visible on her tiny face.

Despite herself, Cassidy snorted a laugh. “Babies.”

The U was finished and Caroline casually handed it over to Cassidy, who took one end in one hand and then said, “Baby Slayers.”

“Hah!” Caroline said and raised her hand, fist out to her sister, who bumped it with her own. “Auntie F would totally crack up at that.”

Cassidy then grasped the other end of the U and Stephen watched, agog, as the bar was bent again, slowly, in the opposite direction. “Well, I do know she’d say something for sure. This is pathetic Caro. And I hate that we don’t have our supplies. No stakes.”

“No swords.”

“No crossbows.”

“We have water balloons.”

“No holy water. No throwing stars. No staves.” Cassidy grumped.

“Well at least we have a crowbar, which was kind of surprise. I mean, I never suspected we had actual tools in the house until Mom grabbed it for the demo.”

“Okay, that was kind of a surprise and it’s not like we don’t have kitchen knives, but not one is balanced correctly.“ Cassidy sighed and let the now perfectly straight iron crowbar act as a staff.

“We will acquire accessories as quickly as possible darlings. Do not worry yourselves on that account.”

“Wait. You’re talking as if …”

Cassidy offered a cool stare that equaled ‘idiot, keep up.’ Then she said, “We’re adults in kid bodies, Steve. I have... had … a Ph.d, damn it.”

“Don’t doubt it. We both do... did.” Caroline said when she saw the man’s expression. She waved her hands a bit dramatically. “Different directions, of course, but complementary. Now here we are and, while I do not doubt our knowledge is going to come in handy, it’s also a bit of a sticky wicket. Developmentally speaking, our peers are nowhere near where Cassidy and I are. Though the option to play and nap at school do have their appeal.”

“Darlings, you were always advanced for your age,” Miranda soothed.

“Not like this,” Cassidy scowled. “I think what pisses me off most is the realization that we’re definitely going to have retrain ourselves. Physically, I mean. And we’re going to have to fake it with pretty much everyone.” She gave Stephen a calculating look. “Except for family.”

“And maybe a few friends.”

“The question is, Steve, which will you be?”

\-----BTVS multi-----


	6. Chapter 6

BTVS: In League Pt. 6

 

All Hallow’s Eve 1997 - Lima, Ohio

\-----BTVS multi-----

Halloween in Lima, Ohio went along as usual. Some parents escorted their children around to their neighbors. Some parents handed out the candy. Some parents were watching scary movies with their kids or without them, depending on ages and whether babysitters could be found. The Berry household, composed of Hiram, LeRoy and Rachel Berry had a tradition of holiday decoration the day before and handing out pre-packaged cookies and candies and watching movies together once the majority of the trick-or-treaters had gone. They did not join fellow revelers in going door to door, not because they were completely altruistic, but because prejudice was not easy to overcome; though they did have a few neighbors who were actually neighborly.

Still Rachel Berry, a tiny brunette girl, loved dressing up and playing the role of her costume. In this case, she had chosen the role of cheerleader; McKinley High, because that’s where her Daddy, Hiram, had gone to school. So when she wasn’t handing out candy to the few people who dared to brave their doorstep, she was bopping around with her tiny red and white pom-poms and making up cheers about Halloween, her parents, her grandparents, her favorite movies and plays and songs and pretty much anything that caught her exuberant attention. Her normally happy disposition was one of the things her parents celebrated about her.

Their genial attention wasn’t instantly caught when their daughter stilled abruptly. She did go quieter now and then, as if, for brief moments she needed a space of meditation before becoming a renewed ball of motion. They fully expected her to resume her energetic random perambulations with her usual enthusiasm.

Elsewhere, at approximately the same time, two young girls, nearly the same age as Rachel, dressed in their chosen costumes (a pirate and a fairy), were deciding which house to approach next and last, since a much later than usual curfew had officially been announced. They were examining their latest haul under the watchful gaze of their mothers. Their fathers had been assigned candy duty at their respective houses. Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce were best-friends from the first time they saw each other at the playground when they were toddlers. Brunette and blonde, the two had complimentary personalities. Brittany was easily friendly, Santana was a bit more prickly and choosy. Not too distant neighbors, their parents had made sure that the girls had plenty of time together, and had formed their own friendly rapport. Thus it was natural that they should be out together during this holiday.

The girls both came from the more prosperous side of Lima and thus, their holiday hunting ground was located in the upper-class neighborhood. They stood in front of one of the prettiest houses on the block. The gate had been opened and the porch light was on. The decorations on the porch were tasteful, an uncarved pumpkin and mini-pumpkins, some decorative corn husks as the layer beneath. Brittany was convinced they might receive chocolate. Santana was open to the possibility of gum. Their mothers, recognizing the abode as belonging to the Fabray’s, thought it might possibly be bible quotes tied to toothbrushes; that was what had happened last year.

Not that the girls would care. They liked the not-so-much-a-treat last time, and had used them as barbie brushes. Brittany had a way of making most things fun, which was one of the qualities that Lopezes and her parents loved about her.

“I wonder,” Maribel Lopez whispered to Annalies Pierce, “if they let their children out to play this year.”

The statuesque blonde shrugged. “I spoke with Judy last week at the All-mart. There were costumes in the cart. And a certain eldest daughter was telling her mother that no way was she going to stay in a house that gave away dental hygiene kits as a halloween treat.”

“Hmm. Good. Maybe Brittany will get her chocolate.” The two friends grinned at each other.

By the time that short conversation was done, Brittany and Santana had arrived at their conclusions and had at the doorstep of that amazing house. The blonde pressed the doorbell, which they could hear ring echo lightly over the porch. The door swung open and plump little girl, dressed in a white doctor’s jacket and sporting a stethoscope slung over her shoulders, smiled widely at them in obvious excitement. She held an orange bucket. Behind her a tall conservatively dressed woman hovered watchfully, Judy.

“Trick or Treat!” Santana and Brittany shouted at the same time.

The young girl said, “Happy Halloween!” as she grabbed a handful of what was in the bucket. She leaned forward conspiratorially and stage-whispered, “It’s real candy this time.” Then she let some drop into Brittany’s bag.

Brittany tried to clap and hold her bag at the same time, while squealing, “Yay!” She actually managed the feat.

Santana merely held her bag forward, eyeing the girl as if she were a stranger, which she was.

The girl said, as she dumped another handful into Santana’s bag, “I’m Lucy.”

“She’s Santana and I’m Brittany! Hi! Are you going to be our friend now?”

The girl’s smile entered the megawatt zone and she fairly shook with excitement. “Yes!”

Brittany bounced forward then, clasping the girl in an enthusiastic hug, only to bounce back beside Santana right after. The other girl was less forward, offering instead, a cautious smile.

Lucy’s mother said, “It’s time to say goodbye, Lucy.” Her voice trailed off as she noticed that the three girls had abruptly stilled. Brittany’s constant jiggle seemed to pause mid-motion. The girls’ smiles all seemed to freeze. For a half a second the woman thought the girls were expressing disappointment, “Now girls there is no need to get upset ...”

Two households experienced a light flashing around them, the power surged and dropped. The Fabray’s porch and the Berry’s apartment was enveloped in a sudden darkness. The parents all heard a sound that put terrible fear in their hearts and all of them lunged, in their respective places, as if somehow they might break a fall or grab a child from danger. The lights flickered and their own forward motion stopped instantly, pressured heavily, as if a physical presence was holding them back. The parents cried out, their own wails of terror joining, as they began to realize what they were seeing and hearing.

Their girls were screaming. They were screaming at the top pitch of their tiny voices and then that pitch changed, deepened. In the Berry household it became almost musical in the most terrifying way, a perfect note of agony. The girls were twisted and turned, not quite flailing, but moving as their bodies elongated, grew, shifted. There was a crackling sound, bone deep and raw as the skin was impossibly stretched and pulled. Tears streamed down the girls’ faces, but there was no choice, no chance of rescue or escape.

The pressure around all of them grew heavier and heavier and lightning strikes hit the ground and floor around the girls, coming from out of nowhere, manifesting with thunderous claps which drowned out the three only temporarily, but blinded their parents from seeing more.

Then, as abruptly as it started, it all stopped. The pressure dropped and the parents stumbled, still blinded by the flashes of light. The screams were only echoes in their ears.

When they could see again, they saw their children as they would be, now were, young women in their prime, knocked out from the pain of their transformation.

Oddly, their costumes had also changed, morphing around them, so they were still nominally modest. Though their outfits had taken on a definite adult flavor.

By the time the parents managed to reach them, the young women were beginning to revive.

Hiram and LeRoy may not have known what exactly happened, but they knew their daughter when they saw her, even after her extraordinary transformation. They did not even hesitate to gather her into their arms, weeping in empathy and a mix of terror and profoundly altered by the experience. “Oh, Baby Girl,” Hiram gasped as he gathered his daughter into his arms. He was both relieved and terrified when she clasped him back.

“Daddy,” she responded softly. “I’m....” She didn’t finish what she was going to say, instead pulling back to look at him in wonder and then at her other father, and then her gaze turned and took in the appearance of her home. Her expression formed the question before she found the words; her mind raced. She pulled back enough to grip Hiram’s forearms and to look him straight in the eye. “Daddy, when are we?”

“I... what?”

When she realized one of her sci-fi loving fathers was baffled by a simple question, she merely turned to the other. “Dad? I’m not really up to posing the question in my usual carefully thought out and clearly worded manner. Did you understand my gist?”

He blinked at her. He, like Hiram, was kneeling by his daughter. She grasped his hand and gently clarified herself. “I have a lot of years of memories Dad. I recognize home, but it’s like something I remember. Not my present. I need to know …”

“...when you are,” completed LeRoy. He brought his free hand up to his lips to press back the, “oh,” of distress. Then he touched her cheek with that same hand. “Sweetheart it’s... it’s...”

Hiram finally answered, “Nineteen ninety seven.”

Rachel’s eyes widened and her mouth opened and shut several times as if she was sifting through too many words to speak and then finally she shook herself lightly. She closed her eyes and took a breath and then, when her eyes opened, it was as if she had taken on a whole new aspect. It was a level of calm her parents weren’t quite familiar with, but they definitely needed. “Fine. That’s okay. So we need, I need, to take things a step at a time and do some checking.” She rolled up, bringing her fathers with her into a stand and then looked seriously at each of them. “Dad, Daddy, I need to make some phone calls. Do you happen to know the Fabray’s number?”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Just based on the positioning of those gathered on the Fabray porch, it was very obvious that personality and parenting styles were very different. Maribel knelt and clasped a weeping Santana, hand on the back of the head so that her cheek was nestled against her shoulder, body nearly in her lap. Annalies, also kneeling, cradled her daughter, even though she was as tall as her mother, one arm underneath Brittany’s knees and and one arm supporting her back. She whispered comforting words into her daughter’s ear. Judy’s hand was tentatively on Quinn’s shoulder, her expression troubled and fearful, as if she knew she ought to draw the girl in, but could not get past her own personal space to do it. But then she pulled the young blonde woman toward herself, until they were in more of a hug.

It wasn’t Judy who offered comfort, though she started to. But the young woman in her arms spoke first.. “It’s okay mom,” she said softly. “It’s going to be okay. I’m alright, we’re alright, just recovering. Trust me when I say we’ve been through worse.” The younger blonde pulled away, her expression firming until all evidence of previous pain and tears was simply gone. Her smile was just a shade above frigid. “Just watch.”

She rolled into a leaping stand, then clapped her hands twice. Then not quite shouted, “Okay Cheerio Bitches, stop your caterwauling. Time to shake it off! This is no time for mommy-coddling. I wanna see you on your feet. Now! Move it!”

The effect was nearly instantaneous. The weeping stopped as if it had never been. The girls rolled away and off of their mothers and stood at sudden attention.

The smaller of the blondes half-shouted, “Who am I Bitches?”

“Quinn!” Santana and Brittany replied, actually shouting.

“And who is in charge, right now?”

“The HBIC!”

“Damn straight.” She leaned forward and growled out at the two other younger women, her expression fierce. Her hands fisted and swung to her hips. She led them with, “And who is the HBIC?”

Santana and Brittany flicked a glance at each other. Then nodded. “Right now, you are, Quinn!”

By now all of the moms held expressions shock and dismay and not a little awe.

Judy Fabray tried for a little control, but she was still trying to catch up with everything she had seen and felt. She was finding it hard to correlate this creature with her daughter, yet... yet... “Lucy Quinn what are you ...”

Quinn raised her hand without even looking at her mother. “Not now Mom,” she barrelled over the older woman before she could continue. “We can’t have a vacuum at the top until we know what we got going on.” She turned her attention to one of the other mothers, “Mama Bel, What year is this?”

The older woman blinked in shock at the nickname, but at the same time she started to rise from her knees and as she did so, did not hesitate. “It’s 1997, Lu.. Quinn.” Then she added, waving distractedly at the three young women, “Halloween.”

Quinn looked down at herself, then at the other two, this time really taking in the way they were dressed. Their costumes, which previously had been childlike had altered significantly. She looked like a sex-in-heels doctor, with an outfit that barely covered her, while Brittany’s fairy might have been the subject of naughty videos and Santana’s was a very ravishing, dangerous pirate. “Well, hot damn. Look at us.”

“Oh, I totes am,” Santana smirked with a healthy glance up and down, first at Brittany and then at Quinn. Then, in a smoky voice she added, “And you know, Dr. Feelgood, if we were at home we would be on the king size giving that outfit you’re wearing a good reason for existing.”

“You gonna tie me up and find the Pearl, Captain San Sparrow?” Quinn sassed back.

The two young women had been moving toward each other in a sly, slow motion with heat building in their eyes and body language. Brittany bounced forward and waved her wand between them. “San, Quinn, let’s not scar the moms even more. Yet. We have a whole lifetime of realities behind us. They don’t remember what we do. They can’t, because they’ve always been here, not there.”

The two paused and blinked at her for a moment. Then Quinn nodded. “You’re right, Britt. Anything we can do about it?”

Brittany let the wand-hand drop and grimaced slightly, her brow furrowing. “Sure there’s ways, but it’s a memory thing. You know how opposed the R.W. is to tampering without consent and we haven’t even gotten to the good parts yet, like how this happened and what it means and where our Star Berry is. We got stuff we need to talk about first, before deciding or even offering to change things. Though, we’re about to get a call, so we maybe ought to take this inside.”

“Seriously?” Quinn cocked her head at Brittany, who nodded.

“Momma-J, we gots to get indoors now,” Santana said, stepping away from their impromptu huddle. She clapped her hands and made shoo-ing motions at the still flabbergasted mothers.

“Are you talking to me?” Judy answered with a blink.

“She is,” Quinn said, grasping her Mom’s elbow firmly. “Besides, my girls and I need to get in and out before Russell gets back from that stupid prayer meeting, which I know he has to be at, because that’s all he’s started doing around now.”

“Quinn!”

“Mom,” Quinn said, keeping her voice even, if a touch cold, as she dragged her mother into the house, “...he’s sort of alright now, but in two years he’ll be a hyper-fundie who turns to drink to numb all his sins away, rather than actually working out his crap, and he’ll drag you down with him by the time Fran hits Junior High. We’ll become a Stepford uber-Christian family, because repression will become a way of life. We’ll mostly fake it and make it, because at first, it’s not so bad, but he’ll have this family so tightly wound that Fran will marry the first boy she meets in college just to escape us and then, when I’m a sophomore in high school, he’ll throw me out of the house because I and a boy got too wasted at a house party to think beyond what felt good and I got pregnant. Funnily enough all it took was one time. I wasn’t even promiscuous, but it was enough for Russell to call me a slut, among many other fun names, and make you set a timer to get me out of the house before he chose to exercise his divine right to beat me.” Quinn paused and grimaced. “Sorry, mom. I’m still a little bitter about spending the majority of the school year without a home. Nothing like living outdoors for a few nights to put things in perspective. Luckily,” she glanced back at Santana and Brittany with extra warmth, “I had friends. It’s old news, but it still comes back to bite me sometimes.”

Both of Judy’s hands clapped against her mouth and her eyes closed in a burst of powerful misery. Meanwhile, Quinn gently led her mother to the nearest seat. “I shouldn’t have put it out there like that, Mom. I’m sorry. But, from my perspective we don’t have a lot of time. I can’t be in the same house as he is. I never could after. It wasn’t just a trust issue, which it most definitely is, but a person is never the same when they have to give away their daughter.” Annelies abruptly pulled her Brittany in for another fierce hug. Maribel placed her hand on Santana’s shoulder, turning the grim-faced girl around to really look at her. Quinn continued, not completely oblivious to the other’s actions, but trying to comfort her mother, if a bit oddly. “But, look at it this way, he’s a different guy right now and maybe he won’t do the same things and maybe things will be better because, hey, you know what to look for a little and now you don’t have to worry about me and I won’t be a burden or even a possible embarrassment to you any more. I may look young, but I’m a grown woman and can take care of myself.”

Judy Fabray burst into tears and the phone rang.

\-----BTVS multi-----

“Hello?” The word was tentatively uttered and it took Rachel a moment to place the voice, as it was not among the ones she expected. She decided to play it safe, though she wanted to leap into her usual greeting. She tightened her grip on the phone, grateful that at least it was cordless so she could pace while worrying. She needed some way to vent off some of that excess energy she always carried around inside, and as some of her favorite means weren’t available just yet, pacing it was.

She glanced briefly at her fathers, who stood huddled together, hugging each other in a one armed grasp. She imagined Hiram might start baking any moment now otherwise. He tended toward cooking sweets when anxious. He had passed on that trait to her. Still she appreciated their non-verbal, if curious and worried, support. So she smiled at them before answering, which actually amped the psychology of pleasantness over the phone. People read moods through sound too, she knew.

“Hello. This is Rachel Berry. Would it be possible to speak to Quinn Fabray?”

The hesitation was apparent again, but the woman eventually answered, “Quinn? I... will have to ask. Please, do you know ....” Again the long pause, as the question remained unfinished. Rachel could hear other sounds very clearly. She could even guess who was crying, based on the tone and that, weirdly, reassured her. If Judy was crying and Annalies was answering the phone then...

Annalies interrupted her thought. “Just a moment.”

Rachel Berry was always polite, if sometimes verbose. “Of course. I’ll wait.”

It wasn’t even three seconds. “Hey. I’m glad you called. Mom’s getting Quinn.”

“Hey,” Rachel breathed, her body relaxing enough that the tense, quick pacing altered to something more sedate. “Are you okay, Britt?”

“Yeah. TMI for me right now. My head is full. But it doesn’t hurt. I just see so much.”

“I know what you mean. Is that why Judy is upset? Do you need me to come there?”

“No, Quinn told her the future in like thirty seconds and it wasn’t pretty. Plus, I feel we’re coming to your house, so tell the Dads. Giving the phone to Quinn now. San will talk with you later.”

“You’re all there?”

“Today was the first day we met.”

“Oh. Wow. I did not... you know, you all never told me when you guys first met. I never thought to ask. I guess that means today was really significant, which means this may eventually make sense.”

“Surprise?”

Rachel’s smile widened and then Quinn was on the line. The blonde said, “We need to get to New York.”

“Eventually, yes. Possibly. But we’ve got to talk and plan first. And by the way, hello to you too.”

“Which is why I put that out there, because I know you and your crazy ninja planning skills and I am sorry. Hi. I think I broke my mom, and Mami and Momma A are kind of shell shocked too and I don’t know how to explain what just happened to them without making it worse.”

“Yeah, likewise for my Dads on the ground wavering beneath the emotional and symbolic feet. Bring everyone over though, because my Dads can handle the pressure. They may not have been through this before, but they have been through the thick of things in other ways and you remember how well they handled the big reveal. They got our backs. We have rooms too, if you need them, which you already know. I don’t know what happened to bring us here or why, quite, but I bet together we can noodle it out. Plus, I’ve already got a few numbers to call, though I don’t know if all of them work. A certain town in California might be a good place to start.”

“The Dads are rocks. And, as if San or any of us is going to let you try to sleep without one of us there. Right. That will happen. Though it may be tricky to convince the Moms. But I got my captain’s face going. We’ll be there. And yeah, but wait on calling. If I remember the history lessons, Halloweens tended to be sticky for our friends in CA.”

“Good idea. Actually, considering when we are, this might be the Halloween that started it all, but in some new way. So we can wait till morning for them, but I intend to call Chicago immediately, though New York is out of the question. The number we really want won’t be listed and the job might not be safe for a phone call. I’d rather we just be there if we’re going to do that, because I know we could handle whatever came down. I don’t remember if she told us about this year’s boss, but you remember the last one we knew about previous to her rise.”

“The rat. I don’t think he’s in play yet. I seem to recall that she said that she had a few good years around this time before he took the helm. He’s part of the reason for her reputation, and we all know how that can be.” Both of them understood the techniques for rumor mongering intimately, if from different sides of the spectrum. But they had both recovered enough that the brief reminder didn’t cause flinches any more. “But can’t you wait for us to get there for the call to Chicago?”

“I really feel it’s wiser to just go ahead and do it. This way if she’s not,” the pause felt heavy and foreboding, but Rachel needed the breath to even speak the thought ambiguously, let alone approach it, “...available, only one of us has to hear it. I’m really trying not to freak about certain possible repercussions our current situation, and while I am sorrowed that you no doubt had to feel the pain of accelerated growth, I am very, very glad you and my other Cheerios are here. Well, not here, here, at the moment, but here, in this time, with me”

“Us too, hon. And as for your concerns, burdens shared and all that. Love you. On the plus side, I have nothing at all to pack.”

“Clothes can be bought and probably needs to be, among other things. I am feeling positively naked without my Bucky. If nothing else, it will give the parents something tangible to work with.

“Nineties fashions. How Retro. Yeah. I miss my tools too.”

Rachel couldn’t help the chuckle. “Love you too. Come home soon and we’ll get some of this figured out.”

“Okay. See you in a bit.”

“Farewell.”

As soon as they hung up, Rachel turned to her fathers with a surprisingly radiant smile considering, “Well, that went much better than I expected.”

Then the doorbell rang.

The Dad’s jumped a little, but Rachel rolled her eyes at herself for even being startled. So much for situational awareness, of which she was normally expert. She smiled brightly and reassuringly at her fathers. “Well, it is Halloween, isn’t it?” She started muttering to herself as she swung toward the door, grabbing a fistful of candy from the ground where it had been scattered and walking with abrupt purpose. “Of course someone is going to show up now.” So she kept that smile on her face and opened the door. “Happy Hallow... Noah!” The candy in Rachel’s hand tumbled back onto the floor as she outright stared in shock.

A tall, muscular young man, his hair shorn close to his head, his features handsome, wobbled a bit as he stood; even though he was propping himself up with one hand on the doorframe. He wore a grecian kilt, greaves and other leather bits and pieces and sheathed sword at his side. Just behind him a brown bag lay on the ground with candy pouring out its opening. He managed to sound nonchalant, even as he looked a touch green and relieved at the same time. Even looking as out of kilter as he did, he managed to rake his eyes up and down, taking in the full effect of the small woman in a WMHS cheerleader’s outfit. “God you look good, Jew-babe. If I had the energy, I’d make sure you knew it too.” His mock-leer turned into a softer smile, “Glad to see me?”

Rachel covered her mouth, her eyes glistened with sudden tears and then she flung her arms out, pulling the young man into a surprisingly strong hug. He squeaked before she gentled the grip and stepped back. She said, very firmly and with great intensity, “Of course I’m glad to see you.”

“Oh good, because, I would have hated if the thunderbolt ride from hell wasn’t worth it.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile and pulled him into the house before he could say more, shutting the door firmly behind. “Say, aren’t you going to rescue the goodies.”

“I am right now,” she teased.

He smiled grimly at her, letting her hold him up more than was apparent to the outside observer. “I gotta tell you Rach, I don’t know why I’m here or even how I got here, except for that it fucking hurt. One moment I’m in a warehouse consulting with the local beaver were-union about our newest slayer-house in Manhattan and the next... BAM. I feel like a noodle that got left in the water too long.”

“You’re still edible, Noah, but right now we must focus on other things,” consoled Rachel as she led him to the couch.

He leaned, pressed his lips to her temple, before sitting. “Flirt.” Then he looked up and blinked. “Oh. Hi Dads. Didn’t see you there, but then, you should be, here, at your own house, I mean.” He sighed and rubbed his hands on his scalp for a moment in a tension-relieving habit. “Except, I thought you sold this place when we all finally settled in New York. In fact, Dad-H I saw you like yesterday. So wait, how come you can stand when I feel like a nap. I mean, I get why Rachel’s up and at ‘em, because she’s got the goods, but...”

“Noah,” Rachel cautioned. Then she leaned forward quickly, placing her hand over his mouth before whispering in his ear, “They don’t know yet.”

As soon as she lifted her hand he said, “How could they not know, Rach? I mean it’s always been full disclosure with your Dads, especially after that one night in college.”

“They don’t know, because they don’t know, Noah. It’s a date thing.”

“A date thing?”

“Nineteen ninety seven.” The young man’s eyes went really wide.

LeRoy interjected, “College? You’ve went to... wait, of course you went, … will go... to college. Where did you go? I thought you were going to Juilliard... and what don’t we know?”

“NYADA seemed more appropriate at the time,” Rachel patiently explained, “And Noah went to NYU.” She did not address the more pressing question. That answer would come soon enough.

“Go me,” the young man on the couch raised a fist, waving it forward weakly. “You don’t happen to have an energy drink handy, would you Rach?”

“I doubt it, Noah.”

“Coffee?” He said hopefully. “Either that, or I’m gonna crash on your couch.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing, sweetie. It might be better for you to naturally recuperate rather than force yourself...”

Hiram perked up at the same time. “Coffee? I can do coffee. That would be lovely, though it is kind of late...”

The young man grabbed Rachel’s hand. “If I can’t have a power drink, I want coffee. I need to be awake so we can talk, which I know you want to do.”

Rachel huffed, but only a little. “Fine. But I have a few things that I need to do first.”

\-----BTVS multi-----


	7. Chapter 7

BTVS: In League Pt. 7

 

All Hallow’s Eve 1997 - NorthWestern University - Chicago, Illinois

\-----BTVS multi-----

Andrea “Andy” Sachs loved college. She loved being at a big university and she loved learning new things. She loved having peers and colleagues that were as interested in a topic as she was. She loved the library. She loved the campus, though not everything about it. For instance, she was not quite as enamored of the Greek life, though she found most okay. It just wasn’t her thing.

However, it was Halloween, following a hellacious week that she definitely needed to unwind from, and the Greek Row always hosted the best parties. 

Andrea was a tall young lady, with long dark brown hair that sprawled chaotically around her head and dark brown eyes that held hidden depth for those who happened to take a moment to look long enough. She was a fairly confident young woman, leaning toward practical clothing which complimented her mostly practical mindset. Her current life plan included graduating with honors and then getting her masters in a quick one-two punch, then heading out to become a journalist. Her fall-back plans included a second degree, pursued in tandem with her first. She would take the bar to satisfy her parents, but her passion was in writing. She had already applied to be on the campus newspaper and was waiting for (and expecting) acceptance, because her language and communication skills were already excellent. Either way, it made for a mostly full schedule. She enjoyed being busy.

Attending this celebration was a rare break for her, encouraged by her friend Lily, who set her up on the date. The guy, Nate, was okay, but she wasn’t sure what to make of him. He was affable, like a puppy, and definitely cute in a dark and scruffy kind of way, but he had yet to stand out beyond being somewhat fun. Good thing she’d already made plans to meet up with Lily and Doug, in case he turned out to be too dull. But she promised herself to at least attempt to enjoy his company and so here they were, listening to loud music and drinking suspiciously zingy drinks from large plastic cups.

She watched him wend his way through the crowd to get snacks and another set of drinks, then turned her attention to the people dancing. Everyone wore costumes of some sort, even if it were a meager mask to cover the face. Given her pale skin and dark hair, she’d gone with a classic and worn a witch’s hat. She also had a tiny broom broach attached to her t-shirt. The worn black tee had white text of warning on it. “Don’t make me call my flying monkeys.” She’d thought it was hilarious when she’d found it a couple of years ago. She wore it on her bitchy days, because even then she liked to think she had a sense of humor.

Even though she knew Nate would return, she grew a little bored waiting for him and decided to scope out the frat house. She didn’t often have the opportunity and she liked looking at the various knickknacks that accumulated in a home or living space. On one wall she saw pictures of Greeks past. On another, she spotted a shelf of trophies from talent shows. Someone randomly handed her an already opened bottle of beer, which she subtly spilled out into a trash can. It wasn’t that she didn’t like beer. It was that she was naturally cautious.

Andy continued her slow self-guided tour around the first floor, fully expecting for her date to catch up with her at some point. She couldn’t imagine what was taking so much time, but maybe the snack line was long or something. It was growing more crowded too, so she was starting to feel a little uncomfortable, especially since the entryways of the rooms seemed to be prime locations for people to just randomly stop, which meant that she had to squish through in an attempt to avoid unnecessarily touching. It was harder than it looked.

After a few more minutes, and given that the house wasn’t that big, Andy decided maybe she should look for Lily and Doug. Nate had yet to return, and for some reason, she just wasn’t all that inclined to go looking for him. A quick text, and she was informed that they’d nixed the House Andy was currently in, and found more fun at another House not too far. On the way to the door, she spotted Nate, drinks in hand, caught up in one of those doorway conversations with a pretty blonde. On the one hand he was waving his hands as if he were trying to convey that he had a destination. On the other, he was talking to another girl and hadn’t stopped yet. Directions or queries as to the locations of one’s date did not take that long to convey. Andy knew, because she’d done both during her little perambulation.

Leaving him to his apparently riveting conversation, she left and made her way to where her friends said they were. She’d just managed to find them, catching Lily’s attention with a wave, when the air around her seemed to suddenly explode. A series of bright, explosive lights flashed out and the air around her compressed and expanded in great rushes. In a matter of moments, it was over, the college students were cheering the light show and Andy, who had ended up on her knees, gasped as memories filled her mind and power filled her body.

“Holy what the fuck, Andy,” Lily dropped down beside her. “Are you okay?”

“What the hell was that?” Doug asked.

Andy looked up at the two people that had been her best friends from kiddie days, in two universes. She hadn’t been able to reconcile with them before. Maybe this, whatever it is, could be a chance for new things, in more ways than one. “Guys, we need to talk.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Because they didn’t bring a car, choosing safety over convenience in case of heavy drinking, it took thirty minutes to get to their place. Lily and Doug walked on either side of her, as her legs were still a bit wobbly from whatever the hell happened to her. She didn’t mind the walk, though, because it gave her time to think and her mind was fast tracking through a million thoughts at once. It wasn’t just memories that she sorted through, but contingencies and sundry details. She wasn’t quite at plans yet.

They went across campus, passing by familiar buildings. She almost suggested they stop at the library. It was generally a safe place to talk, but even with the events going on that night someone might be there to overhear. She wasn’t quite ready to say everything out loud and was trying to find a way to frame what needed to be said so it would be believed. But it was nice to see it, since it was, had been, one of her favorite places on campus.

Once they were back at the apartment, Andy felt she had things sorted, in her own mind, enough to begin explanations. She told them of things hidden in shadows and secrets, of impossibilities and wonders and futures lived and lost.

“Really, Andy?” Lily exclaimed. “You think I’d turn my back on you for Nate? He’s a nice guy and all, but we’re besties from the cradle.”

Andy was just about to respond to the comfort of that, out of everything that she’d been told, being the thing that Lily fixated her disbelief on, when she felt a familiar tingle in the back of her mind. Brittany. It was a tentative connection, a butterfly’s mental touch, but recognizable. It was a searching, probably more of an instinct than an actually conscious search. If what had happened to her, had also happened to her Cheerios, they probably hadn’t adjusted yet. If one was there, she had to believe that they were all there. Anything else was simply unthinkable.

Closing her eyes, she mentally grasped onto the light connection, strengthening it with her own will. She felt a sense of safety and security, so at the very least, Quinn and Santana were with her. She thought about what needed to be done. They needed to talk. Just then, her cellphone rang, and an idea formed. She thought about the number, and concentrated as hard as she could to push it down the link. She knew that Brittany and numbers weren’t always friendly thing, but this was important. 

She felt the reach back and a sense of relief, but she wasn’t sure if the message had gotten through. She hoped so, but until someone called, she’d just have to wait. But while she was waiting, she had wives and kids to find.

“Andy?” Lily sounded very dismayed. “Andy, I know it must have been bad if you’re not talking to me now, but... I didn’t do that. I wouldn’t...We wouldn’t.. Andy?”

The brunette blinked and shook her head. “Sorry. Sorry. I just... had a bit of a thing …” She smiled tightly. “What happened then, doesn’t matter now. I know this, and that’s why I’ve told you what I’ve told you. I love you guys, but now, I’ve gotta find my family. Wanna help? We might have to leave school, though. For a while, at least.”

Andy watched as her best friends looked at each other, talking without words in that way that only life-long friends could do. After a few minutes, they turned back to her, and Doug smiled sweetly, speaking for the first time since leaving Greek Row. “What do you need?” 

\-----BTVS multi-----

Still Halloween Night - Lima, Ohio

\-----BTVS multi-----

Hiram and LeRoy only agreed to wait on an explanation because both Rachel and Noah believed that it would be better to explain things once everyone affected by the event, that they knew about, had gathered at the Berry residence. Despite the protest that he was more than old enough, the Dads, as Noah insisted on calling them and which they were secretly totally gleeful about because it gave them hope for the future, refused to give the youthful man a beer. Also, Hiram pointed out logically, the beer would conflict with Noah’s originally stated purpose of staying awake. 

Rachel refrained from offering to drink it for him as a symbolic gesture, but only because she recognized that its soporific effect would be hardly a blip on her physical radar and she was not ready for her father’s fo find that out yet. Instead she decided to indulge Noah’s plaintive offer to clean up the candy while making him stay down on the couch a little longer. 

It really did not take that long, but she could tell when when she returned with the partly full bag that he appreciated the gesture and not just because she got him candy. He had an excellent view from the couch, which she very well knew; though she had tried to keep her efforts at PG 13 for her fathers’ sake. They were probably not even close to ready, emotionally at least, to understand that their daughter had long been aware of her sex appeal. It was one thing to accept that she’d had an accelerated growth spurt and temporal relocation intellectually. It was another to grasp the full ramifications.

She smiled at Noah as she handed him the bag, winking. “I even added some from here, because, after all you were willing to brave our tainted doorstep.”

“Rachel!” LeRoy barked in shock.

“Sorry Dad. That sounded more bitter than I intended.” She settled onto the couch beside Noah, tucking one leg under her and grabbing one of the young man’s hands in her own. “Though really, for the year and time, he was very brave.”

He flashed a grin at her, “I never let prejudice stand in the way of free sugar.” Then he leered playfully at her. "Of any kind."

The grin she returned to him was probably slightly more salacious than she intended for her fathers to see, but she couldn’t help teasing. “And thus your sparkling reputation. I think only Xander beats you out for the number of, shall we say, experimental encounters...”

“Hey!” He protested half-heartedly. Then, jokingly said,“So few can resist the Puckerone.”

LeRoy and Hiram glanced at each other and finally Hiram said, “Are you two... together.”

Rachel turned on the couch a little more so she was facing her fathers a bit more directly. “This probably falls under the wait until everyone is here umbrella, but yes, Noah and I have had and will have sexual congress. However, our relationship is somewhat complex and while I trust you, my parents, with full disclosure, I’m not entirely sure you’re ready for it.”

“Couldn’t just say sex,” Noah teased. “Or use a four letter word. Succinctness. I know we’ve had this discussion.”

“That was succinct, Noah. For me.”

“True. But now, look at the Dads. They’re gaping at you.”

“At us, dear. But I’ll wait to bring up the real reason we, as in, you, I and the rest of the Cheerios, need to talk about it.”

“How do you mean?”

“Waiting. Better for all of us and besides, Dad and Daddy need a moment to process.” 

They didn’t have long to wait. 

\-----BTVS multi-----

Lima might not be as small as many think, but it usually took less than fifteen minutes to get to anywhere, approximately, and this included the Berry’s house from the Fabray’s. It was a two car drive. Judy and Franny took one car. Mirabel and Annalies and their daughters and Quinn, who refused to be separated from Santana and Brittany, and who had grabbed her toothbrush and Mr. Cuddles, her green, frayed, plush tyrannosaur, as her version of packing before they left.

On the way, Brittany held Mr. Cuddles in a full armed hug to her chest, while Santana rested her head on her shoulder and Quinn rested her legs across both of the other young women’s thighs. No one said anything. The moms in the car couldn’t quite formulate the questions because there were so, so many, though they had been promised some answers at the end of the drive. The young women seemed to be lost in thought. 

Mirabel glanced back via the rearview window. As if there was an atmospheric change, the girls shifted as soon as they entered the Berry’s neighborhood. Quinn turned around and Santana straightened up from her slouch. Brittany set aside Mr. Cuddles, placing him carefully on the back dash, and laid a hand on the door handle. The young women weren’t smiling, but where before they appeared nearly bored, now they seemed hyper-alert. Their gazes seemed to move at the same time and Mirabel had to turn her attention back so she could park. When she did, she observed, from her peripheral vision, a door swinging open at the Berry residence, as if whomever was on the inside could not wait.

She had no idea that the person opening the door had been previously sitting in the family room mere seconds ago and had moved so fast that the men who were left behind were still in their seats; two of them with a what-just-happened expression on their faces. 

The car wasn’t even entirely stopped when doors were opened from the back and three youthful females started exiting speedily, landing on their feet without so much as a stumble. 

Rachel stepped out onto the porch. She was illuminated by the soft yellow glow of the porchlight. She was still wearing a red and white cheerleader outfit, one that had been adjusted over the course of their transformation. For those who knew what to look for, it was very easily recognizable as a head Cheerios outfit.

The girls who had started up the pathway all paused. The doors to the cars behind them were opened and shut. They didn’t look back.

“Wow,” Quinn said, breathily.

“Yeah,” Brittany nodded, equally smitten.

A noise like a slow rumbling hum emanated from Santana. Then, she began to speak and move forward, linking her pinky with Brittany and somehow managing to tug her along, who hearing the tone in Santana’s voice grabbed their other blonde. 

The words flowing out of Santana’s mouth were lyrical in intonation, but their meaning had her mother shouting, “Santana Lopez!” in that tone that only parents who have heard-things-they- really-didn’t-want-to-hear used. 

Judy, not knowing what was said, pushed Franny behind her protectively. “Oh goodness, are they going to fight?”

Annalies, who had spent enough time with the Lopez to pick up things, and wasn’t a blusher, tried very hard to quash the laugh that wanted to burble up. Instead she managed, “Oh, that’s the furthest thing from that girl’s mind.” Then she added thoughtfully, “Unless you count wrestling.”

Rachel bounced forward, spreading her arms, a grin blossoming on her lips. They practically crashed into each other, with Santana lifting the small brunette up into an embrace. The smaller girl’s legs wrapped around Santana’s hips, but before they could go much further a masculine voice shouted out, “Redlight!”

They dropped away from each other almost instantly before fully processing that they had. It took a few breathless seconds to mentally catch up. Puck’s use of the safeword had startled them. It was one of those words so rarely used that it was only training and firm indoctrinations that kept them from carrying on. Then Rachel turned back toward the door, while Santana snarled at the interruption. Brittany bounced on her heels. “Puck! Not sure that was a good call man.”

“Whatevs. I call ‘em as I see ‘em.” 

Then in a whisper too low to be heard by anyone but slayers, Santana said, “Estrella, you, me and this uniform in a bed, very soon.” 

“Aht!” Quinn interrupted, also at that same quiet level, waving her index finger at Santana’s face, “Only if you promise not to rip it, tear it or otherwise mutilate.”

Santana’s voice raised a notch, but was still a whisper, “Why? Because the uniforms are sacred?”

“No, silly,” Brittany said, joining the quiet conversation, glancing back only once to make sure none of the parents had caught up yet. Then she once again linked pinkies with Santana, “Because you aren’t the only one with the fantasy and...” she paused for dramatic effect, “Rachel is our alpha. Now she has a uniform to prove it.”

Santana smirked. “Cute.”

Issue closed for the moment, their attention turned back to the one who interrupted them so inconveniently. “Puckerman!” ground out Quinn and started marching toward him. “What’s the big idea!”

“Well hello to you too gorgeous, but one, my Jew Princess asked me to intervene before things got hot and two, parental units still behind you!” He pointed, which caused her to look back and then to suddenly flush, especially given the things that had been on her mind mere seconds ago.

“Oh. Right. Parents not in the know and...”

“Yeah. Maybe not the place.” He suddenly dove forward and grabbed Quinn into a bearhug. “Howdy baby...”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Puck.”

By that time Santana had arrived and she packed in another hug around his waist, which caused him to squeak.

“Remember Noah has had a long journey,” Rachel called out. “He’s still fragile!”

“I can take it!”

Brittany’s hug was much softer.

“Girls. Noah, you’re blocking the door. Come inside.”

“Ooh. We’re so going to have to talk to the Dads about that,” Brittany commented.

\-----BTVS multi-----

The family room was much more crowded, but it smelled wonderful as cookies warmed in the microwave, hot buttered popcorn and hot chocolate with marshmallows and other drinks of favorite flavored sodas were handed out. Weirdly, despite the originations of the gathering, Hiram was happy and in his element and Leroy watched him fuss about with warm affection. The girls and Noah occupied the wide couch, filling it completely. The parents who were present were in the other soft seating or in chairs that Leroy and Noah brought in so that no one had to sit on the carpeted floor, unless they wanted to.

When it seemed like it was at a good point, Rachel nodded at Noah and then cleared her throat. “Daddy, Dad, and Moms, if you don’t mind me calling you that, even though you haven’t really had a chance to adjust to the idea like you did in my future-past. Anyhow, I think it’s time that we began re-informing you of things, very important things, that you need to know about us and who we are. Normally, I would prefer to have handouts and a presentation ready, but given the events of the night, I am guessing that what might be ordinarily unbelieveable may be much less so now. I can tell you this, that everything you will hear tonight is absolutely true, and aside from some alterations to the timeline, due to our arrival, it’s going to be fairly accurate. Also, under normal circumstances, if the introduction of a concept had to do with ordinary or general supernatural topics it would likely be me who led the conversation, but some things are traditional and Noah, is our Watcher. It’s up to him to make these kinds of introductions, as necessary. Noah, I leave our introductions up to you.”

“You do realize you could have just said, Noah’s going to explain everything, right?” Santana peered at Rachel from the other side of the couch and arched a brow. 

“But that wouldn’t have explained anything, nor been a proper introduction.”

“Keep being you, Rachel,” Brittany said as she tossed a piece of popcorn into Santana’s mouth. “We love your verbosity.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Be good San, or I’ll tell Rachel to hide the uniform and forget where she put it.” She leaned forward and, without any self-consciousness at all, gave Santana a very warm and barely chaste kiss. “You know you love the way she talks too.”

Noah grinned at his girls and then turned his attention to the other adults in the room. His expression turned serious. Impulsively, he stood up. “Yeah, well, like Rachel says, I’m the Watcher and I’ve been trained on doing this sort of thing. Every true Watcher has the moment when they have to introduce something unbelievable to someone and make it palatable or even just moderately understandable. I have been luckier than most, in that most of my introductions to the arcane and the wild things that lurk in the night have been been usually given to strangers who really only needed to know one or two things to get out alive.”

“Wow, I thought Rachel was the one who spoke like that,” Quinn teased.

“Shut up you. I’m speaking to the ‘rents. And I’m trying to decide whether to go with a Gilesy intro or a Puck intro.”

“I vote Puck!” Brittany exclaimed.

“Assuming it means you intend to condense the information, yet keep it accurate, I will also vote Puck. Giles tends to go for the dramatic,” Rachel whispered the conclusion to her fathers. 

“Says the Diva. Vote for Puck-version, since I’ve not heard you have to start from the very beginning. Usually it’s while we’re on the run and you’re handing someone a flamethrower and you say something along the lines of Bilious Demons don’t like fire.” Quinn added her two cents.

Puck rubbed his palm on his scalp. “I didn’t say it was up for a vote.”

“Yet you allowed one to happen anyway. Keep stalling and you know Rachel will just start talking...”

“Fine. Fine. Look, Dads and Moms, this world is way more complicated than you have ever realized or been told. College history and Religions don’t even begin to explain it, because there have been forces at work to keep everything hidden from the normals view. We’ll start with what we know about the true history and then we’ll come back to the girls.” The young man started to pace. “Once upon a time, long, long ago and before the written word, the monsters were bigger, faster and outnumbered us. And I am not talking dinosaurs, though they were roaming about the time all of this was going down....”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Puck’s version took less time than Giles’ and it was brutally frank, underscoring the previous slayer’s life expectancies versus what life had been like with squads of slayers and how even that had barely made dents in the nightlife. Although, it had been getting better. His team was one of the most successful, not just because of the core relationships, which, while starting off a bit adversarial had turned into a deep closeness before the change, but also because every single one of the young ladies had been a true athlete and in perfect form. This was not your usual “healthier than usual,” potential, but each had become, through their various experiences, the best at what they do, or rather did. After the change, they had become even more apt and skilled, partly because of their personalities, but also because none of them were afraid of rigorous training or applying whatever worked to the situation. Other reasons were also probable, including the fact that his team had no problem with trying modern weaponry or with taking spoils of war, but Noah knew one true thing. These Slayers had each others back and they also had a great field team and personal support structure in the form of family and friends. This structure included the parents.

Who, after they got over the revelation of life expectancies, peppered the watcher with questions. Some of which were more easily answered, like “And why did you become their Watcher?”

“Because I knew what was out there before they became slayers and I knew how to handle myself and when I found out they were slayers, they were still my girls. I didn’t want to trust anyone with that. Plus, the council was looking for a few good men and the pay was astounding. In our last reality, none of us were exactly poor and not just because we had our covers. I mean, real, jobs.” What he didn’t mention were the stories behind that statement. Such as, the time some guy had accused Rachel of cheating on him while she was in New York because she was constantly out late at night and Rachel had demonstrated that she’d been busy with other things. She’d emphasized it by lifting a semi’s front off the ground and that man-boy had reacted badly. He had proceeded to word vomit an assault about her being a monster, freak and mutant. It was all stuff that hit below the emotional belt for Rachel, who still wasn’t quite over everything that had happened in high school. But Puck had been there, by happenstance. It wasn’t Rachel who punched the guy in the end. It had been himself. 

Some of the questions and answers were a little tougher or had unexpected answers, “And how are we supposed to tell your fathers?”

“Papí already knows.”

“What?”

“Well, he doesn’t know I’m a slayer, but he knows about... well... the history of us and … Great Aunt Rosalind didn’t die of an overdose. She was killed by a master vampire. The other story was just a cover. He already knows and he’s been...” Santana folded her arms across her chest and looked away from her mom. “... he’s been a little worried about me. About what I might be, because I was already a little stronger and faster, even though I was tiny..”

“A... potential, right. That’s what you would have been?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not just potentials now.”

“No Mamí.”

“And my husband,” Annalies began. “Should I even tell him?”

Brittany said, :”Mom, you know he’ll just believe you. All you have to do is tell him. You never lie and it won’t be good to keep it from him.”

“True.”

“And Russell?”

Quinn said rawly. “Even when the dust was settling around his feet after I saved his sorry life for the second time, he told me that it didn’t matter what special effects I put on, I had no right to go and ruin his night. I once thought about letting him get bit to see if it would actually be an improvement.”

Brittany shrugged, “Worked for Harmony, but I wouldn’t suggest it. Mr. Fabray is too intelligent in his selfishness for it to work.”

Quinn hummed instead of replied and the subject was dropped in favor of other questions. 

\-----BTVS multi-----

Later, Hiram realized something that slid ice down his soul. “Wait. You said in the future you came from there were hundreds of slayers, which made it possible for you to have careers and family and to follow your dreams, and still adhere to this calling. But what about now?”

It took too long for the kids, no.... young adults...no, just adults who happened to look young... to answer. Noah looked him in the eye. “A handful. Maybe. There’s us and... maybe Buffy.”

“And Faith. She’s out there.” Brittany added.

Quinn picked up the thread. “But we only know they are out there because we know they were to begin with. Anyone else, except maybe for our, ahem, our... our family... I mean family of teammates,” Rachel laid a hand on Quinn’s knee, stilling the apparently nervous jitter that had suddenly manifested. The beautiful blonde relaxed a little as she continued, “... if they were like Noah and happened to make the transition, they would have to contact us somehow or we’d have to be at least in the same city before we knew for sure. And our teammates, well, there are other ways, which I’m betting Brittany’s been trying,” The taller blonde nodded firmly. “But... that’s if she can reach them. Meanwhile, you know, Rachel is going to call Sunnydale in the morning to see if anyone else makes contact. But it’s kind of a bad night to try and make contact now, so frankly, we don’t know. It could be just us six, total.”

Hiram paled. He wasn’t alone.

“Don’t worry, Dads.” Noah tried to reassure. “Even if it is just the six, at least it’s six of the best. Buffy Summers held the line with just her Watcher and high school friends for seven years before we were brought into the picture, and Faith learned from her.” He wisely left out the other Original’s ‘dark’ past. See, discretion, he did manage to learn it eventually.

\-----BTVS multi-----

“It’s okay, Dad. We’ll will probably be up for awhile anyway. Noah can crash on my bed and Judy and Franny can use the guest room. Santana and Brittany are going to go with Momma A to make sure she gets home and I and Quinn will go with Mamí. Then we’ll meet up at Lima Cemetery and swing up to State Hospital to get a feel for things around there. We might hit the Morgue if we have time, but more likely we’ll just head to the All-mart, just to get some clothes and supplies for the day. We’ll get some sleeping bags or something and when we come home we’ll crash on the floor in my room.”

“I thought Noah said that Halloween usually wasn’t busy.”

Santana said, “It usually isn’t, but look at what we’ve been through. Plus, there’s always the baby-bat that might rise. It’s better to get them early. Either way, if it’s a bad guy, we’ll make short work of it.”

"Besides, Lima has never big that big on the baddie scale." Quinn reassured them. "Even when the Hellmouth was in Cleveland, they were usually just passing through here."

Hiram gazed at Rachel and her... obviously more than just friends, given that they were definitely struggling and flailing their effort to hide the depth of their affections with an adorable lack subtlety... for a good minute before realizing something. “Oh. Oh! You need money.” He planned on giving enough for all of them, including Noah. They were obviously, at least to him, a part of a non-traditional and very non-monogamous relationship. He thought it probable that LeRoy was just as observant of the details as he and had arrived at a similar conclusion. However, until Rachel was willing to trust them with it, and he knew that she would because she had already said she would, then he could be patient with the details.

His daughter kissed him on the cheek, grateful for his willingness to try, even if he didn’t quite understand everything yet. “Thank you Dad.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

That night - England

\-----BTVS multi-----

Diana Dormer was ready to sleep. Midnight and its ceremonies had come and gone and she was tired. It had been a long day and a longer evening, despite the good company. Thus Diana was attending to some personal details for the evening; shower finished, hair brushed, mouth washed, and sleepwear on. 

She tended to read in bed, with a lamp set low for light and her glasses tilted just enough to make the text a little more legible. At night, before bed, she read for pleasure rather than study. She did that during the day and at the sundry times of necessity; school and magic and the needs of the coven. Tonight, despite her usual enjoyment of the book, reading seemed a bit more arduous. So she committed to only reading a few more minutes, intending to finish out the chapter.

The hair on her arms and at the back of her neck rose; not because of what she read, but because she felt the “front,” of a magical emanation. The only thing she was able to do was drop her book, before the light beside her banked and her house became utterly dark and silent. She had confidence in her wards. They were some of the strongest anywhere and she was well known for her craft in them. 

The wards did nothing to hold back the flash of light and pure power that shattered through her house, through herself. She was thrown back against her headboard, the pillows behind her softening the blow. Her body shook as power and lifetimes engulfed her.

She screamed and lost herself to visions. 

A flash of light and she was hanging by wrist cuffs, encouraging a young woman to escape and to live, telling her it wasn’t her fault and that she loved her as her own daughter. Another flash of light and she is called into Travers office and told that she will be training the new slayer and not to make any mistakes. Her lips curve into an accepting smile, while her mind rails at the almost prosaic evil that he pronounces. He has no idea how much she loathes the games of the Council, but in her heart, she is already making a vow to protect her slayer. Another flash of light and she is in the midst of a fight, supporting her slayer, Faith. Her slayer cum daughter’s name is Faith. Her adopted daughter. 

Faith.

Another flash and she sees another life where she and Faith never met, where her magical power grew and matured. She lives to an old age, barren, loved, but always having the sense of missing something.

Her daughter. 

Not of blood, but of potential.

Faith, who she watches lose her way, outside and unable to help, because she was dead - sent into battle with one of the terrible Masters, given none of the aid that Travers had promised and trying anyway, because the world needed protecting and that’s what a watcher and her slayer did.

Diana woke up gasping and sweating.

Remembering everything.

\-----BTVS multi----


	8. Chapter 8

BTVS: In League Pt. 8

The Day after Halloween - November 1, 1997 

\------BTVS multi-----

Tara Maclay rose far before sunrise, far before most anyone else arose either. She was already packed. Her meager supplies filled a small backpack, carried on her shoulder. She had all the money she had carefully saved from years of errands, womanly odd jobs and a prize from winning a quilt contest at a fair, tucked securely in three not too obvious places and one obvious one.

She wore country wear; a worn jean-skirt, a plain shirt, tough shoes and the appropriate undergirding that kept a person from chafing or revealing too much. Her body was strong from hard work, but she also took care to keep her hands soft. She crept down the hallway, pausing just outside her mother’s door. She resisted the ancient urge to open it, to drift in and cuddle, as if it were the old days before the stepfather. She waited a heartbeat longer, and then passed the room. It was time to go.

Her mother had known about the change almost as soon as it happened, though she hadn’t been in the house when Tara had collapsed, breaking one of their careworn dishes. She had run back to the house without knowing why, but she always knew when something was wrong with her baby. She also knew when things were right. And she knew that the girl who awakened was not the same one she’d left doing chores, no matter how mature Tara had always been and even before a wave of her girl’s hand had repaired the dishware as if it had never been broken.

Because she knew her husband would never stand for a woman with that much power in the house, it had been her mother who pushed Tara to leave and who had added a small sum to the amount the young woman carried and told her not to look back; because she knew that her girl could and would take care of herself now.

But the younger woman had a different vision. She knew things were much, much different now. Thus, it was Tara who pushed her mom to free herself also, to come with her on this new journey. “You don’t have to stay here any more.” It had been both a promise and a cajoling. They both knew what her mother’s husband had turned into, and how his example had twisted Tara’s pre-teen stepbrother. He had been so sweet before his father had converted to a very fundamentalist religion. Both had gained a twisted attitude toward women and a cruelty to match. The scars on Tara were metaphorical, emotional and tangible.

As was the nature of abuse, the harsh changes in those they trusted made it hard to jump toward opportunities. Both had often let go of one chance or another so that neither got left behind, even as their belief in their own innate goodness was assaulted constantly. Now, Tara knew not to believe the lies at all, but her “younger” self had been caught up in the terrible stories that her stepfather told her and her mother.

It had taken time to explain, if not everything, as much as Tara could in the short while they had before the men returned from their nightly outings, before her mom even accepted the possibility that this might be the opportunity they’d been waiting for. Eventually, the quiet, but transformed woman convinced her mother to go with her. But she had worried that her mother’s resolve wouldn’t be strong enough. Tara had let go a breath she had not known she’d been holding when she saw her mother was waiting.

“Are you ready, Mama?” Tara asked softly, when she finally entered the kitchen, which allowed exit from their house.

Diana Maclay, dressed like her daughter, with a similar carry pack in her arms, looked around one last time. “Are you sure, honey? This is your family. They may not want me there. What if they come after us?”

“My family is your family, Mama. They will love you as much as I love Joyce. Even if Father comes after us, we’ll be with family, and nothing he can say will change that. Please trust me in this.” Tara shifted her pack, uncomfortable in the clothes she was wearing. Despite her new ‘memories’, her old self did not like these reminders of a past she had long since left behind. But she had her beloved mother back, without a hint of the cancer that had taken her ‘before’, so she considered it a fairly balanced trade. She made a mental note, however, to stop for new attire for the both of them, if they had time before their flight.

She considered calling too, but decided that some things were better done face to face. Besides, calling too soon might lead to an unnecessary confrontation. She was very aware that Willow held little mercy or tolerance toward her stepfather and only a shade more toward her stepbrother. Willow might have chosen a path of good, but it was definitely her own and there was a reason she was known as the Red Witch, rather than the White. Better to be away from what might spark the dire in the first place and spare them all.

She smiled at her mother, and opened the door to the porch. The men-folk would not notice the leaving, as they would assume the women were away doing early morning errands, which was not an unusual thing for their household. They made their escape in her mother’s beat up station wagon, which would be left behind at the airport. Their new future awaited.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Breakfast was served in a huge room with several dining tables with pleasantly apportioned chairs and a long breakfast bar with stools. Two monitors aligned flat on two walls. Both were active. One ran the morning local news, which claimed that the night’s previous events had been a gas-main leak and in which the anchors acted as if the imposition of a whole town and its inhabitants was something that had been there all the time. The other monitor was running a game, in progress. The room happened to be so directly adjacent to the kitchen that it might as well be counted as, because Joyce had long been of the mind that breakfast and lunch were informal, while dinner was held in the dining room. That room had a serving station, a very long table, with really big, comfortable chairs and was currently completely empty. Anyone who was awake, and hungry, was in the extended kitchen / nook.

Under normal circumstances, it was either self-serve or mom-serve. However, Joyce-Mom, as the Scoobs had been known to call her, was not up or at least, not in the kitchen. It had been a very late night for her and these were not normal circumstances, yet. But it also was not the semi-normal chaos of individuals trying to get their breakfast first and the food smells of awesome were definitely in the air. This was because there were actual cooks in the kitchen, two Jagers and a clank with a metal chef hat.

There was also a buffet and a line of persons of varying degrees of being-ness waiting for some of that deliciousness, which included Jagers, a passel of slightly confused rescuees of the “gas-main leak,” (children and adults, whose homes had been shifted somewhere in the new Agatha-friendly version of Sunnydale), and some tiny big-eyed creatures with backpacks and toolbelts who had joined Agatha’s clanks very late in the dark part of early-morning. No one knew what they were, but they had been strangely helpful and very insistent about support structuring the underground walls. So, the general consensus was that they must be a Sunnydale-local creature of harmless and helpful variety.

The Buffy Slayer Teen of Old was known to now and then go off half-cocked, but she had for the most part always been a “leave the humans alone and I won’t kill,” slayer. As a world and time traveled woman she had way more experience and now just checked for badness or instinctively recognized pack-touched. In her view, despite the mandates of the old Watcher Council, merely being different was not meant to be a death sentence and impractical besides. The Jagers she’d encountered so far, with their fur, claws, big teeth and funny accents, claimed that Buffy and her family smelled like Heterodyne and Buffy found that Jagers felt like her people. As, weirdly, did the big-eyed critters, whose language seemed to composed of chirps that while not the same as the clanks’ beeps and whistles, somehow seemed to match and be understandable. So food and company were being enjoyed, even if there was a tremendous sense of orderly craziness. Oddly, it just made things seem familiar to those out of their time.

Two young people entered, dressed casually for the day, but apparently not in a hurry to go anywhere, as the school-bus would have been long gone. No one said anything. School was closed due to the gas-main break and the apparent “fact” that there was a lot of “gang” related damage from the night before. School would, of course, be open tomorrow, as Sunnydale’s educational system was “old hat” at repairing the major results of mayhem and had their own maintenance slash construction crew for just such occasions.

Not that the shake-down about who was or was not going back to school had happened yet.

The newly extended family had yet to settle on a last name, let alone whether anyone was braving the American educational system again, or if they were going to go ahead and get started on building a new kind of school. That was on the agenda for later; if they got to it. The control room was going to be very busy and there was already much to discuss, including the great list of “things that happened before,” that needed accumulating, cataloging and prioritizing.

Dawn pushed Andrew gently toward Willow, with what was apparently a last piece of advice. “And if you don’t, then you’ll never know and what if nothing changes?”

Andrew smiled weakly at Willow as soon as he realized how close they were to her. “Hi,” he squeaked.

“Something up?”

“Yes,” Dawn said.

“No. No, nothing’s up,” said Andrew at the same time.

Willow glanced at her table-mates and then at Andrew, deliberately sitting back. “Okay, now I know I haven’t been firing on all my pistons lately, but that was definitely one of those big-hint moments. Make with the spilling.”

The youthful looking man glanced at Dawn, flexed his hands, looking at them as if they were missing something; which they were. He liked his rings, especially the long-gone engagement ring, which happened to also serve as a spell enhancer and he was deeply affected by the loss his wedding band, a ring of protection. It ached him in ways he hadn’t yet articulated. Dawn had known him so well, accepting not just his pansexual orientation, but his nerd-fu and his odd tangential ideas with grace and a genuine joy. Plus, she appreciated adventurous cooking. He glanced once more back at her and saw a look of support mixed with just the tiniest edge of threat.

Yeah, she knew him well. As did all those of the newly-extended Scoobs now.

Willow, meanwhile, was having her own epiphany and realized that like the majority of those in the room, he too could pass for either high school or college. Easily. It worried her a bit. But then he launched into a sales pitch that would have won an award if it had been about any other topic. He didn’t even breathe until close to the end, but by then he’d said quite a bit about his old friend, the high school and even the meaning of living in the United States of America and the Federated Planets. “He’s not that guy yet. He’s still a kid. He wasn’t always bad. He was just too smart for his own good. And we have ways of dealing with smart that no one else has even thought of yet.”

The witch’s eyes had narrowed to a near close during Andrew’s impassioned plea. Her body language reflected her tone. She spat the name. “Warren.”

“Warren? No! That man is... was... crazy right from the very beginning. No, I’m talking about Jonathan.” Andrew’s body language, in the meantime, was all wide eyed and don’t-kick-me-puppied hopeful.

Willow stared at him and then her gaze slid to Dawn, whose apparent hope was mixed with pride as she gazed at Andrew.

The Red Witch’s gaze narrowed further. “Jonathan. He was a … bad boy.”

“Yes. Well,” Andrew started, then paused and started again. “No, not really. Not badder than I really was. It was just that, we were the only friends we had. We didn’t really have anyone else. Even Tucker treated us like we didn’t exist. And we were just used to following where Warren led.”

Willow thought back and considered it from that angle. It was like her and Xander had been with Buffy, only from the other side of the coin. Put like that, she could understand better than he probably thought. She came to a decision. “You want to train him up, then do it right. If he looks at me wrong...” Andrew gulped and then blinked as the redhead’s expression softened, just for a moment. “Then I will let you handle it. You and I both know I’d go to an extreme with him and few men look good skinless.” Willow’s expression changed again, and it was one that sent chills down observers’ backs.

Andrew’s smile couldn’t decide if it were ecstatic or terrified, but his eyes said something else entirely. And being who he was, as he always was, he said, “I love you, Willow,” with an astonishingly deep sincerity. “You won’t regret it.”

“He’d better hope not.” Given the reminder, Willow made a mental note to keep an eye on the Warren. His megalomania started early. He really needed to be removed from the picture. Or at least, out of Sunnydale.

“Don’t worry, Willow. We’ll have Warren tracked six-ways to sideways. He won’t be able to sneeze without us knowing.” Dawn promised, as if reading her mind.

Willow’s lips compressed and she pointed at Andrew. “Warren goes even an eensy bit bad, he dies.”

Oddly, no one paled at the declaration; it was a given.

Then Andrew leaned forward quickly. If the first kiss was a shock, the second was a benediction, both slow and oddly tender. Willow smiled despite herself and shooed him away, gently, “Now let me finish my breakfast. And remember, if I can’t have coffee...”

“... neither can I. Yeah. I know.”

“Come on, before she changes her mind.” Dawn said, grabbing Andrew by his belt loop and dragging him back. Then she took his place, but only long enough to grab a kiss herself, and a piece of Willow’s toast; a triangle with loads of butter. “By the way, Kit and Carlos called. Their parents are currently freaked about their sudden ‘growth spurt’. Depending on how that goes, they aren’t sure when they’ll get over here.” 

“I’d say it’s too early in the morning for this, but I don’t know if it can be too early in the morning for kisses. And I know I should feel odd about that, and especially that it was Andrew, because, you know, last life and all, but I so don’t. In fact, I really liked it and I’d do it again.” Willow said as she and her breakfast companions watched Dawn and Andrew scamper off. 

“Just like last night,” Buffy quipped, a forkful of egg and sausage on her fork. As soon as the redhead looked at her, she took a bite, her eyes glinting. Beside the plate, where her other hand rested, a miniature clank, distinguished from Agatha’s by a decorative scrolled B upon its back, labored to paint the fingernails of her other hand a brilliant pink to match her most current outfit. The nail polish brush angled precariously between two tiny thin arms, but it was getting the job done; perfectly.

Willow blushed, hard, but she also couldn’t help the fierce smile. “Well. Yeah. Then again, I have been kiss deprived. I think it may just be catch up. Either that or I’ve suddenly become easy. I’ve not become easy, have I?”

“Naw, Wils,” Xander said, from the other side, as he poured another helping of cold cereal. “He’s pack and you’ve just become softer in your dotage.”

“Oh. Well that makes me feel a lot better.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Major Samantha Carter, though maybe she shouldn’t think of herself as a Major in the Armed Forces anymore, thought that there were certain things to be expected in life, and in particular, her life. Hers was one of duty, honor, logic and sometimes a little fun, but mostly a lot of shooting and running, which was what had gotten her here in the first place. She expected order in her office, chaos in the field and earth to be situation normal.

She did not expect to wake up one morning, spooned by a warm vampire with a heartbeat, and a brunette doppelganger of herself on the other side. That was outside the bounds of even her not-so-normal regular life.

Yet here she was.

And coming through the bathroom door, light highlighting her from the back, was a delicious looking redhead... alien, who happened to have started out more human than most.

How did this happen again?

Oh yes. She had been shot, was still shooting back at their attackers, when Jack had pushed her through the portal, like he does, and she’d found herself on a street rather than at the command center; with no way to get back.

And yet, despite the fact her life had at that moment gone crazier and more inexplicable than it had been in years, she felt the sanest she’d been in a long time too.

Mina’s hand pressed comfortingly, without pressure, on her rib cage, just below her breast. It was not a sexual thing.

Samantha wouldn’t claim to be well, just yet. She was still a little worried about the “mad” part.

But the woman on her other side, Helen, was gazing at her with mischief and awareness in her eyes and an incredible sense of sane presence. It reminded her a bit of Janet, who had that same kind of practical groundedness that her team had come to rely on; that and pointy needles of infamy, but ….

The redhead settled at the foot of the bed, near her feet. A large, fluffy towel was wrapped around her body, but her long hair was wet and combed. They had all taken turns at the bath and were waiting on the clothes that had been promised. “You need to buck up, Sam. You’re not thinking about this clearly. Just because you think it’s impossible doesn’t mean it is. One would think you’d figure that one out by now. After all, we’re here.”

“But they’re not.”

“That you know about. The world did change. Several times by my count. Quantum fluxes of immeasurable power. For all you know, you could dial that phone over there...”

“... and no one would answer.”

Donna cocked her brow. “Did you try?”

“That would be...”

Helen, somehow managing to remain touching at least a part of Samantha’s body, reached back and snagged the cordless phone. She checked for a dial tone. She then handed the phone to Samantha. “Worst case, no connection...”

“No. Worst case would be there is, but no me.”

“No. They would think you were prank calling. I could have Buffy do it if you like. Or I could.”

“No! I mean...”

Who knew that vampires giggled. She felt Mina’s shaking quiet laughter against the back of her shoulder. “Fine.” She paused for a second, “Do you think we should tell anyone?”

“As if they wouldn’t guess that you would try...”

“Right. Right. Still getting used to...”

“Us.”

“Mm.”

Helen’s steady gaze gave her strength. Samantha dialed a number she knew by heart. She didn’t dare try the mountain just yet, but perhaps someplace near it would have the answer she needed.

One ring. Two. The phone picked up.

Unbelievable. Samantha held her breath, though she hadn’t meant to. It could be a wrong number and she didn’t want to give away anything and so many other thoughts were flitting through her head at the moment.

She heard a laconic greeting, simple as always. “Yeah.”

And then, in a burst, “Jack, the next time you shove me through a portal, make sure it goes where it is supposed to.”

“Sam! Sam is that you! Are you okay? Where the hell are you? Do you know what happened? Are you somewhere secure? I tried to reach the base, but something’s wrong. If these memories are legit, the whole mountain is some kind of huge amusement park. Wait. You were shot. Did you get to a hospital?”

She could have cried. “I’m not dead. I’m okay. I’m …. not at a hospital, but with... family. They patched me up.”

“Family. Daniel?” Jack sounded hopeful.

“No. Not Daniel. And as for my family, I don’t think you’ve heard of them. It’s a long story, Jack. And... I don’t know if the phone is secure. I just... needed to call...”

“Have him come here,” Helen whispered. “I’ll go let someone know to expect him.”

“I have an address Jack. Do you need me to send someone?”

“I got my truck, Sam. I’m at my place now.” He sounded slightly unsure about it, but Sam wasn’t going to question his location right that moment. She was just so relieved to be talking to him, to have him talking back to her, as if he knew her. She felt as if she could breathe right again.

“Okay. Good. I … God. I’ll see if I can track people down. Let me tell you where I am. It’s just... Look, when you see the wall, don’t panic and just tell them who you are. And don’t shoot the people with the pointy teeth and funny accents. It will just irritate them.”

“I thought you said the line wasn’t secure. Wait. Pointy teeth?”

“And hats. The Jagers have a thing about hats. We’ll let them know you’re coming. Look, I’m not on base, Jack. At least, I don’t think so. Though there is one near here, I think...”

“Don’t confuse the issue, Sam,” Mina whispered.

“But that’s not important now. Can you come? I’m in California.”

“Give me the address,” Jack growled. “I just...need to see you with my own eyes.”

Sam could completely understand that.

“Oh. And Sam, don’t be surprised.”

“A little late for that, Jack. It’s been a night of surprises.”

She heard a snort of laughter.

“Okay. I’ll give you that. I got a headful of memories here, that... well, you know. Same-ol’ same-ol’ with us. Like that hasn’t happened before. But, my son... I’m bringing my son with me, if that’s okay. Sam. I’d like you to meet him.”

Sam’s breath caught. “Oh.”

Talk about world changers.

“Bring him. Please. I think... I’d really like to meet him.”

 

\-----BTVS multi-----

“Castle Summers slash Heterodyne. Andrew speaking!” As per usual, he was somehow first to reach the phone. It wasn’t just because he was magic. Or, maybe it was, a little.

Either way when he heard a squeal of joy at the other end, with his name attached to it, he thought it was worth it. “Andrew Wells! You have no idea how glad I am to be talking to you!”

He couldn’t help the smile. He knew that voice and it allowed him to dispense with caution. “Rachel Berry, there is no possible way you are as excited as I am. After all, I am speaking to an EGOT winner and you starred in...”

It was an old conversation, but one they both loved, “... played a small part in...”

“Star Trek: New Horizons. I would recognize you anywhere and anywhen and not just because you are gracious enough to attend conventions when you so don’t have to.” Or the fact that she made a very creditable ancestor of Deanna Troi. 

“Who knew I’d get a whole new crazy fan base and you know I loved it, but Andrew, I am calling as per protocol, as established by the council, to provide a situational report. Do you have your special pens?”

“No, damn it. Because we just got here too, so to speak.” 

“Ah. I do understand. Hopefully your journey was less... shocking.”

“Can’t say that at all, but it probably wasn’t as noticeable as it could have been, given the night. That said, I do have a computer handy, so report away Ms. Berry. You’ll be our very first entry. That makes it historical, which, of course, totally fits your famousness.”

“If only. Not famous in the here and now, but who knows what the future holds. Okay, I’ll start, then I’ll hand the phone over to Noah.”

“Noah is with you! Be still my heart and thank god. Things are definitely looking up. Wait until I tell you some of the goodness that we have going here.”

“I look forward to it,” Rachel burbled, then her tone turned serious, “Here is the report, as much as we know so far. An event, possibly global, occurred on October 31, 1997...”


	9. Chapter 9

BTVS: In League Pt 9

\-----BTVS multi-----

In general, people avoided discussions of height in Buffy’s presence, but sometimes it was unavoidable; like now. The Slayer Queen stared up at the man who was pretty much her father in all but name and genetics. Oddly, it wasn’t the fact that his presence set her radar pinging. It always had, though much more lightly. It wasn’t even really the horns, though that was a trip. They had been through horns before, so, yeah, they’d cope. It wasn’t the rueful and flustered expression or the lack of glasses.

It was that she felt like she had to get a stair-step to look him in the eyes, at least nominally.

Damn it, why was it everyone else got the height fix when these things happened. It’s like the height fairy went around banging people on the head with a tall wand, and kept skipping her.

On the other hand, Rupert Giles mostly looked like himself, and he wasn’t trying to dismember anyone.

“Jenny will be arriving soon,” he said, continuing a conversation they were having in the conference room. “You may notice that she is also altered in her appearance.”

Ah, thought Buffy, that would explain the smell of roses and other scents. Jana. She was alive. Okay, so that brought a warmth of tears to Buffy’s eyes; even though, technically, they’d already knew. “Oh. Hey. We can totally …”

Willow, expression somber, handed her a kleenex and Buffy dabbed. “... yeah.”

Fortunately, Giles was very adept at the verbal shorthand of his children. “Yes. Quite. I understand that contact has been made with other lost souls already?”

“Sam said to expect a friend and his son. Faith called again. She’s in Denver and getting some breakfast. Said she pinged a potential and wanted to know if we wanted her to check it out. I said to come on home. We’ve had a report from Lima, Ohio of all places. The Cheerios.” That thought cheered her up almost immediately about the height issue. She remembered that she wasn’t alone. Thank goddess for Rachel Berry. They were short people together. Buffy’s smile widened, even as she spoke very seriously, “They’re going to be doing a bit of cleanup in and around their hometown and then head to New York, since we know that city never sleeps and for good reason. But that said, I told them to be careful and not rush down, even though we know they have family down that way. I just don’t want to spook any of the old council just yet.”

Rupert exhaled slowly. “Wise. I find I have no interest in contacting them at all at this point. Yet...”

“Keeping them busy with what we have going on down here would make a good cover. And, we could save them. Some of them.” Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “The good ones.”

Giles cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. Staying under radar is not our only option now, but you’re right. There is no need to push it.”

Buffy offered him a shiny smile. “Great.” Then her expression narrowed to something much more dangerous. “I guess, with Faith coming, that means add in Kakidude on the bad-guy list too. I’d nearly forgotten him.”

Rupert’s smile was affectionate, despite her mangling of the name. It was good to see some things remained the same.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Jenny Calendar had been a beautiful woman of slightly above average height, pale skin, dark hair and dark eyes. She was part of the memory of every member of the original Scoobies, their first real casualty as a group. She was also part of the memory of the family and they knew that she was alive and transformed.

As Giles’ description had been more than a little vague, no one quite knew what to expect. But, since his transformation, like Cordelia’s, had been one of the more obvious set, they understood that it might be unusual. He was also, apparently, trying to control it and had visibly shifted at least twice during the conference, growing to appear more and more like himself. The horns were definitely shrinking and the eyes had lost that yellow coloration, but he was still taller and broader of shoulder.

The new family, including a sleepy-eyed Agatha after a full night and partial morning of monitoring, building and sparking things along, were in the main conference-slash-control room adding bits and pieces of “things that might happen, that we remember happening or a possible ripple,” to a database of webbed concepts that was growing larger and more intricate as they worked on it. This database did not just include what the Sunnydaler’s remembered, but also, in general terms what Donna, Jame, Helen, Mina and Sam remembered; as they had all been at varying points of future times, with their body clocks set back, along with the others. If an event was even remotely possible, it was put in. If it was totally improbable, it was put in and notated as such. This was, in a grand sense, the brainstorm.

It was also complex enough that, the computer “mind” behind the scenes was processing hard and fast, trying to keep up. Andrew’s machine had been upgraded by Agatha, once she got a hold of it, but it was still a baby and still not quite sentient.

Not that she meant to make it sentient, but... everything Agatha sparked did inevitably gain their own spirit of the machine.

It was while they were deep into the discussion that Jenny arrived, escorted by one of the Jagermonsters who had taken up residence somewhere in the deep of the new “Castle,” and was now actively on their version of duty. He was chattering away at Jenny, speaking a language that under normal circumstances very few people in the room would have known, but as it was, it just seemed heavily accented to them; Romany, with a Germanic tinge, which was just like the Jager’s “English” accent, such as it was. The translation spell had done its job for the Scoobies, however, and the family understood what was being said quite clearly.

He was telling Jana, that they were very distantly related; and not just in multiverse terms. His family name was very close to Kalderash. Willow wasn’t the only one who experienced a shiver at that revelation.

Isk, which name was a version of Isaac, finished leading Jenny into the conference room. Willow was slowly, slowly putting names to faces. She knew from memory that the Jagers were originally “made” persons, men and women, who had made the decision to become what they were, either through profound loyalty or necessity. It was a calling, not just an existence; like being a Scooby. Though, she understood that this did not mean that they could not increase in more "natural" ways once they had been transformed. She made a mental note to do some research. In a way, she could hardly wait to see the Jager's reaction when Buffy finally gave into her jitters and utilized one of the exercise rooms. Right now the Jagers were treating everyone as weaker extensions of Agatha. They too had things to learn.

Isk did not have a chance to finish his story. Like Joyce, the introduction of Jenny into their midst, even if she were taller, redder and weaving a tail through the air in a state of high anxiety, was profound. The teacher found herself wrapped up in a weepy group hug as Willow, Cordelia, Buffy and Xander basically tackled her. If she had been worried that she wouldn’t be recognized, that had been definitely been shown to be unnecessary. And forgiveness for a horrible mistake remembered, but not yet committed, was, like with many of them, granted without thought or consideration.

They were truly, without a doubt, just glad that she was once again among them.

\-----BTVS multi-----

“Well,” Jenny said, after hanging up the phone, “The illustrious Snyder is glad the children are okay. He’s apparently got a lost-and-found list going, as parents reach out to him and has asked us to essentially keep the kids here until they can come pick them up. We, of course, agreed.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Jenny,” Rupert smiled, looking more than a little relieved. It was good to have her back in their court, and not just because she was breathing and he had loved her, but because she did have a way of running interference with the miniature tyrant that none of them had ever been able to replicate. He turned, speaking, “Agatha, if you could....” He paused, taking in the sight of the slumbering woman. She was rumpled, glasses on her forehead, and her body slumped in the soft chair. She looked adorable. He carried on. “....continue sleeping. Buffy, if you would?”

The slayer nodded, and they all waited quietly, if with affectionate amusement, as the inventor was lifted from the chair and then carried out of the room.

Rupert cleared his throat. “I think, perhaps, that is our signal. I believe we’ve accomplished enough for now. Perhaps we ought to see to the care of our guests and investigate the changes in our town.”

“You don’t want to deal immediately with the Mayor?”

“Not until we have a plan in motion. At the moment the news reports that he is out of town, but his people will be coping with the crisis in the usual style and efficiency, which gives us leeway and sets the greater part of our community on the path to quick reconstruction anyhow. Mayor Wilkins may be evil, but like others of his ambitious ilk, at least the trains run on time.”

“Point.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Later, Buffy sat beside Willow and took her hand. “So. I was expecting you to speak up earlier.”

Willow, who had not been looking at anything in particular and whose attention was definitely not in the moment, did not reply quickly. But when she did, it was with a squeak. “Speak up?”

“Mm. Yep, you know, when we were conferencing about all the things that need doing, people that needed getting. And I can think of at least one thing in particular you might have been seriously interested in. With not one word from you. See, and that’s how I knew. Are we going to go get her?”

Willow’s mouth moved as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t. Buffy watched as one of the most powerful people she knew curled in on herself. “I...Buffy, I don’t know. I thought... I want...” The witch’s pained expression carried a lot of history.

“Ah. You’re panicking. I get that.” Buffy nodded wisely. “But, you know, she was there, right. We all were there.” She brushed a lock of dark-red hair back.

“What if she doesn’t want to...”

“Pfff. Come on. This is Tara we’re talking about. She’d come after you if you were in the deepest hole of holiness.” Buffy blinked and thought for a minute. “That didn’t come out right.”

Buffy’s effort made Willow smile and that momentary relief was enough to spark her thoughts enough to reply meaningfully. “I’m a little afraid to check and see, magic-wise, since everything has been such a cock-up so far.”

“Well. I wouldn’t call it that, but I can see your point. So, we wait a day or two?” Buffy considered the idea, comparing it to what they knew of Tara past and present. She knew that if the young woman was able, she would probably already be making arrangements to get away. She also knew that the woman’s father was, broadly put, temperamental. They could go rushing down, but would it help? On the other hand, their Tara was no weakling and she was very smart. After all, she’d managed to leave the grasp of the family in their other timeline. The slayer in Buffy might want to go pound things, but she had learned to harness her abilities and emotions too. It was another reason why she had managed to live so long. But being able to separate the impulse from the needs of the moment meant she could be the tactician, and now, she supposed, the inventor; already a plan for a machine, specifically geared toward dangerous environment type search and rescue was forming in her imagination. She didn’t quite shake it off, particularly when she kept envisioning a giant metal fist impacting with the step-father’s face. The thought of which put a particularly wicked smile on her face when she replied, “And then, if we haven’t heard...”

“We go get my Tara. I really need to retune before we do anything, which is another reason I’m hesitating. I’m really off kilter, but that means concentration and we have so much to do first.”

“Our Tara. And good. Glad that’s settled. So we can focus on what needs doing around here most immediately. And you can get centrified, or whatever.”

“Centered. Yeah. That would be a good idea.” Willow looked away again and muttered, “That would be a really good idea.”

Buffy just smiled affectionately at her and squeezed the witch’s hand.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Sunnydale, at least locally, was understood as a form of middle class suburbia. It had just the right mix of wealth, little in the way of true poverty, and the infrastructure to support all kinds of businesses and shops. The Mall, if people remembered outside of the town, was actually one of the better ones around. The University was an intellectual haven and they had managed to have professional workshops and campus visitors like all the other campuses around the U.S.; usually during the day. If some of the professors were a little more eccentric, no one thought about it. Literally.

Mechanicsburg was a quaint European town. Like Sunnydale, they had their shops and businesses. They had schools and infrastructure. They were mostly middle class, with some wealth and some poverty. The difference being that, where they’d been from, everyone remembered their town. They had a whole tourist industry based on the notoriety of their Lords and Ladies Heterodyne.

Overnight, that particular version of the industry shriveled and disappeared in the haze of magical influence as the towns integrated; including the outlying forests and farms, which had allegiance to the Heterodyne dynasty.

The new river Dyne, swept beneath and through the town, toward the ocean. It appeared to originate from somewhere deep in the earth, to rise and wind into and out of visibility, passing through parts of the outskirts of the town to provide a new source of power (or an old one, depending on one’s point of view and the memories that had been adapted to this mashing of realities) via already operating watermills and other implements of river-power.

Castle Summers-Heterodyne started off in the suburbs, but had somehow switched from middle-class suburb to upper-class during the night. This was no handicap. Finding the new castle was easy, as it was set on a mountainous hill that hadn’t existed before and the tallest building in the city. Yet, despite that, perhaps the greatest evidence of the change was in the general layout of the city, which at the start was laid out more like the usual square and suburb. The transitioned town had taken on a much quainter aspect of shops in walkable distance from homes. While the supercenters, the mall, the high school and university, and the major square remained in their original places, there were also smaller “squares,” nearer the blocks of living space. Wide, lantern-lit sidewalks big enough for three bikers to travel side by side meandered, connecting neighborhoods, smaller schools, parks and the shops, which were suddenly easily accessible without a car; not just gas stations, but mini-grocery and sundry shops, jewelers, clothiers and hat shops, weapons stores and cafes and bars, supply stores for mad and sane inventors. All of these were interspersed with the rest of the town, as if idea of purely commercial block had been considered and then someone sneezed during the planning session.

The warehouses and the seaport, had also expanded, as if Sunnydale had somehow become part of the mainstream of industry. Tall stack-towers puffed out steam, from several factories, but in a totally carbon-friendly way. The airport remained the same, but there were horse and buggy stations to go with the taxis and they all somehow worked together, as if they had always been that way. Bikes, trikes, and sundry other modest modes of steam or non-powered vehicles roved the larger pathways, while pedestrians of various origins, made their way safely to their destinations. There was even a new (or again, old, depending on one’s point of view) train station, which cut gently through the northern edge of town and linked to the major lines, which led to the larger cities. The schedules had even updated to include those new routes, and attached to the train station was the bus station, which held local and non-local transit options. That some of the drivers were more toothy than others, seemed to be of little note to the citizens who took advantage of the services.

The hotels and motels and day-inns, in the meantime had experienced an evolution. Where before they barely existed as dangerously uncared for temporary abodes, from which the monsters of Sunnydale snacked on the unaware visitors, they became havens of rest, affordable at the different levels of cash-ability. This was because most of them now had guards with teeth of their own to keep out the riff-raff.

The whole town did. Mechanicsburg, while not necessarily on a Hellmouth, had its own monsters and misfits to care for, feed or hunt down and delete, depending on its friendliness to the Heterodyne rules. From the point of view of the newly arrived people of the town, the Hellmouthian population of creatures were fodder or friend, so long as the abided by those old contracts; mostly fodder.

Many of the locals, vampires especially, would not and did not, preferring the Mayor’s demon-friendly rules to the Heterodyne’s. This caused some instant dust-ups and clashes. The Jagers found the Hellmouth to be a veritable font of fun and mayhem, the thrill of the hunt was theirs to embrace, and even in the short span of time they were present, it was apparent they were going to continue their traditions with gusto.

This meant, with the advent of the new shared reality, and from a certain point of view, Sunnydale had become one of the greenest, prettiest, most tourist friendly (even if visitors didn’t quite remember everything that happened there, though maybe they got some crazy photos from an amazing theme-park filled with very friendly people in fur-suits) cities in the United States. This oddly aligned with the original intent of the Mayor, before he’d become enamored of the darkside and his city had become filled with cemeteries.

Not that those cemeteries or their reason for existing went away. It was simply that the Hellmouth and its powerful siren song, had, with the aid of a chaos god, fallen under new management. Even the U.S. Army Base had become part of the transition, as the base was merged with the military force native to the Heterodyne lands. The official ledgers outside of town were altered to reflect that the area around Sunnydale had essentially become a feudal mini-state, which was somehow still American. No one outside or in town really seemed to notice the difference; after all, those who could vote, did and the newly added population simply seemed to become part of the census.

Meanwhile, all of the signs still said Sunnydale, even if the walls surrounding the town and streets were patrolled by Jagers and a new “local” militia. Also, the city seemed to have a newly composed city council, many of whom owed allegiance not to the Mayor, but to the Heterodynes, Agatha specifically.

\-----BTVS multi-----

The Magic Box, like everything else, had been transformed. It went from the standard box of a store, to a quaint village-rooted shingled building, with an interior that belied its size at first glance. The shop itself had become magic, with the usual mystical items strewn in logical places, but at the same time, there were items floating, spinning, even walking about. Of course, this meant that Mr. Giles sensed a power that had not been present in the store before when he entered. That magical essence shivered along his skin pleasantly, like a fresh wind. He liked it, enough so that he felt compelled to be even more cautious and careful.

“My goodness,” was Rupert’s exclamation once he fully took in the obvious changes, and he desperately wished for his glasses so he could wipe them down and think. He supposed he could find a pair with faux lenses in them, to complete his usual picture. He had finally, with the help of Willow, managed to squelch the horns away, though he did remain significantly taller than he had been. Not that, given the current atmosphere in the town, anyone would have noticed. Much.

Jenny had been less successful in disguising herself, though that was probably a matter of time. Willow had created an amulet, borrowing, with the surprising help of Buffy, one of the smaller clanks for a beginning and making the necessary adjustments. He had no idea what would be the long term effect upon the clank, but the mystical energy both hid Jenny’s current condition and helped suppress the natural, or in her case, supernatural, appetite that accompanied it. Not that she could resist everything. She was in a state of touch, laying hands on the members of her new tribe without thought; only managing not to escalate because of the mystical interference of the token carefully pinned to her outfit.

It was Helen’s considered opinion, and they trusted her expertise in such matters, that it would take awhile before Jenny was fully under control for herself and more, that she should not deny her needs too much, as it might feed back. This placed them under a sort of time-table; a fortunately willing one and not just on his part. Jenny, at least, had options, some of which might have been a great surprise in another life. But never let it be said that Slayer stamina was useful for only one thing.

Jenny, like himself, was taken aback by the changes wrought in the store, but she also did not stop and block the door. She trooped in, taking in changes like a tourist, while the original shopkeeper and her new assistant, a toothy looking jager-woman wearing a tall beaked hat, beamed at them in welcome.

Dawn’s response to the changes in the magical shop was much less reserved. She squealed in glee, sounding for a moment like her original age, before dragging Andrew deeper into the demesne and disappearing from view behind a counter and wall of arcane tools, wands, staves and sundry crystal balls. “This is awesome!”

It took all Rupert had to refrain from shouting, ‘Don’t touch anything!’ But he managed. He was sure both Andrew and Dawn remembered the hazards. Or rather, he really strongly hoped they did.

“Jenny, will you be …”

“I’ll be fine, Rupert. Go on and speak to the lovely shop ladies. I have some browsing to do and I’m sure you will too.” She pointed toward a corner that appeared to serve as the book-nook of the store. “Supplies first. Pleasure later.”

The way she said, ‘pleasure’ caused tingles up the spine of anyone who happened to hear her say it. Not that she really noticed, as she sauntered toward her chosen destination. Something had caught her interest quite thoroughly. Her improved eyesight allowed her to observe titles of books at a distance and she thought that they had never graced the store, or their earth, before; A History of Magic, Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed, Enchantment in Baking, An Alchemist's Grimoire of Basic Evocation, The Greater Handbook of Do-It-Yourself Spell-making, A Computer User’s Guide to General Magical Interfacing. It went on and on. Despite herself, Jenny, issued a muffled squeak of delight as her inner techno-pagan geeked right out.

After a moment of staring at the technology teacher’s backside, his propriety briefly forgotten, Rupert returned to the task at hand. “Ah. Yes. Supplies.” He stepped toward the cashier’s counter, prepared to charm the latest owner of the store. A part of his mind wondered how long this one would last. Then he glanced at the assistant and realized that it was very possible that the previous problems of ownership may have been quite eradicated. He found himself smiling widely. “Ladies, if I might have your assistance? I have a list.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Strangely, like a nexus of normality, the Harris residence, unlike many of the neighboring houses, had remained fundamentally unchanged; except for the shape of its roof. It remained the same color and contour. Its outer decor was unkempt and discomfiting in appearance. The shrubbery, natural hardy Californian plants, looked bedraggled and forlorn.

A group of people stood on the semi-trim green and brown grass of the front yard, looking at the building.

“Wow, Xan. You know, it’s kind of impressive,” Willow said. “I could run a guess at reasons, but it could be anything. I mean, you collect mystical doo-dads, when you think we aren’t looking, and that alone would warp the weft, if you get my drift.” She smiled at Xander to take any sting out of her words, laying a hand on his arm. Behind them was a small van and some muscular minions and sturdy mechanized helpers to do the lifting and the carrying; not that Xander expected to bring much, but Buffy had insisted. Anything he wanted, they would retrieve, because Xander had a new place to live.

It was just, in a previous life, he would have been less obvious about leaving.

“Then there’s the stubbornness that is the Harris family trademark, so I was thinking more along the lines of typical, and my collection of the moment isn’t that huge.” Xander replied. Then he shrugged and sighed a bit. “It’s how things are.”

Willow nodded, though she was as aware as anyone that there was always more to the “how things are...” that wasn’t being said. Just because it was how things are, didn’t mean it was the way it should have been.

Jame patted Xander on the back. He was in position to know exactly what Xander’s blithe phrase meant. “Let’s go do this. It’s better to do it quickly.”

“Like a band-aid,” Xander muttered.

“More like, Mina’s already disturbed, young Xander.” Jame pointed a thumb at the tall woman. She was eyeing the house as if she could see into it and while her exterior said ice queen, they could all pick up on the sense that she was agitated. Her hair was a vibrant red now and her eyes had taken on a glow. She’d been like that since it was decided that Xander would be moving in with them and she was reminded of what she knew about his home-life.

Well, it was nice to be appreciated.

“Yeah,” Xander said. “Let’s get this done.”

They were met at the door by a tall, burly-going-to-fat, narrow eyed, scruffy man, who was wearing a dirty wifebeater and worn jeans. His feet were bare and he held a beer in one hand. He stood in the doorway, blocking the path and glaring at his son, who had only recently become taller than him. “What do you think you’re doing, Boy?”

In the previous life, around this time of year, if his father was awake and feeling belligerent, Xander would have attempted to avoid the confrontation. But now he had years of his life reframed in him, as well as the recent addition of Jame, the diplomat and he had back up. “Well. Dad.” The word dad stretched a little across his tongue and he found himself following up, “I’m just here to get my stuff and get out of your hair.” He added diplomatically, “I think you will appreciate the extra room in the house.” Xander started moving forward, letting his gaze turn stern.

Anthony Harris’ hand shot out, flattened against Xander’s chest. “What you trying to pull?”

Xander looked down at the hand and then back up at his father. “Getting my belongings and leaving. As previously stated. I should mention it’s probably a bad idea to try to stop me.”

The man’s lip curled. “Oh. It’s gonna be that way. Think you can take your old man now? Think you can just walk right in and take my stuff? Think I can’t take you?”

It might have made a more impressive moment if some of the words hadn’t slurred together. But the elder Harris shoved Xander back, and he did manage the feat, but only because the younger man had learned long ago to let the energy move past him.

What Xander’s father could not anticipate was the furious sound of wings, the sight of a flurry of bats storming toward him past his staggering son, or the way he was grabbed up off his feet by a thousand invisible hands and flung out into the yard, to careen up against a haggard tree. The beer bottle dropped onto the ground, forgotten.

He registered a feminine shout of, “Mina!” just as a woman with sharp teeth and red glowing eyes formed. She hefted him like he was a sack of potatoes, shook him hard enough against the tree that his back scraped.

“Mina! Wait.” Xander said, as he arrived, stopping after a dead-run. “He’s just... being what he’s always been.”

“A craven lout. A drunken bully,” Jame provided. “Were it not that I promised Xander, I’d call you out to duel, sir, pistols at dawn.”

“Not helping,” Xander groused and then winced as Mina slammed his father against the tree again. “Sure, he may deserve some roughing up, but really, it’s a waste of time.”

Jame, meanwhile, merely switched to another language, which he knew only his family would understand and continued in his caustic descriptions of the Harris patriarch.

Xander did not bother complaining again, as nothing Jame said was untrue, and there was no way his father knew what was being said; nor did Jame’s attitude reveal it much. The man was ever affable, or could at least appear so, which was one of the qualities that they held in common.

The elder Harris, still more full of belligerence and beer than wisdom, pointed and said, “Get out of here. I don’t want to see you again.”

This time Mina dragged the man forward so he had a very clear view of her very sharp teeth. “It doesn’t work that way. Not any more. You are not welcome. You are to be gone. You have the rest of the day and the night. If you are still in this town by this time tomorrow, you will be ended.”

“Mina.”

This time Mina turned her snarl at them. “No. I won’t have it. I won’t have this … anywhere near you, near us. I have seen his kind before. He’ll make trouble, just to cause it now, because he would think he needs to avenge himself. He needs to go. While I can still let him and he has a chance to forget.”

“And Mom?”

“Did she ever stand for you?”

Xander looked back at his house. He had made his peace as he’d gotten older. His parents had left Sunnydale without looking back during the evacuation and he’d never seen them again, but his younger self still felt those ties. “They’re human, MIna. She did once, but they lost themselves a long time ago. I lost them, a long time ago.”

“Then they are done here.” She dropped Xander’s father to the ground and shoved him toward his house.

“You can’t do this...”

The snarl turned into a full out roar, and the man squeaked, tinkled and fled.

“Remind me to stock up on chocolate, and maybe some blood,” Xander said, looking a little pale. 

“Chocolate?” Willow said, and she was also quite stunned by the turn of events.

“Yeah. I want to stay on Mina’s good side.”

“Oh. Good plan.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

It felt odd to feel a little bit like a stranger in the home she had been raised in, but Cordelia had several lives under her belt and ages of being an ascended being. Technically, she still was one, and her newest mortal coil had adjusted, utilizing the wild magic of the previous night to blend her young soul to the old, her daemon to the angel, and those odd bits and pieces that had never quite fit, but always had been in her. After all, she had not gotten her costume from Ethan’s.

She’d managed to make the tail, although it was quite a bit more than just a tail given her nature and its prehensile capacity, disappear and fold into a pocket space within herself. It was not a singular adjustment, but it was the most obvious; just fortunately easy to hide.

Which was good, because she did not wish to explain to her parents, just yet, the changes that she faced and how her previous life had gone. At least she hadn’t sprung six arms; this time. It was hard enough attempting to explain that the house of cards that her parents had so carefully crafted was not so long away from tumbling down. Fortunately, she had back up with her, Buffy, whom her parents knew tangentially as a student, and Andrew, who had the evidence in the form of a stack of spreadsheets and printouts. He even managed took look like an intimidating, if young, suit-of-importance.

He did like to dress for the parts he played.

Her parents were surprisingly polite, smiling and nodding at the right moments, holding drinks of fortification in their hands. They were as she remembered them, before they were incarcerated and they aged a hundred years before her eyes and refused to let her visit after the first six months. She died twice before they even had a chance to be let out. She knew what happened after she left the mortal plane the final time. Her father was tall, dark and handsome in the traditional California way; a kind of Cary Grant-ification to his features and uber-businessman in his personality. Her mother was what they called a natural beauty, also dark haired, though she sometime tried blonde for fun, a social butterfly and hypochondriac. Not so ironically, they were also both brilliant. It was just what they turned their minds to, that was so shallow; money and social standing. Cordelia came from good, if somewhat selfish stock. It did not embarrass her at all. If she could evolve, they could. She loved her parents enough to make the effort.

Buffy was there to play three roles; the support, the Vanna to Andrew’s presentation and the heavy, in case. Andrew’s presentation took forty-five minutes.

Cordelia’s parents went from cordial tan to white-out pale, as the young man laid out their finances, tore down their illusions and broke them against the knowledge of the future. The children who weren’t quite children any more didn’t just have pictures and charts, they had knowledge and hackers and brutal honesty; Cordelia’s specialty, which she wielded with the knife-like skill of a surgeon.

The Scoobies laid down the final words. Cordelia would be moving out as of that second. Her parents could keep on the course they were on or they could liquidate assets soonest, pay off the taxes owed and resulting penalties, which would leave them uncomfortably close to penniless, and move in with her, at her new place. However, it would not be a free ride. They would receive training, have responsibilities and be required to help out; like everyone else. Cordelia deliberately made it sound worse than it would be. She wanted the lesson to stick.

Her parents tried to slide out with, “Now Cordy...” but she didn’t even bother to play. She touched them, once, just brushing her hands against theirs, and laid them out with memories of their other life; the bad ones. The ones that she had observed and lived through, but they didn’t have to.

She looked down at her twitching parents and said, to Buffy and Andrew, “Let’s go. They’re going to be a while.”

“You don’t want to stay?” the slayer asked, laying her palm at the center of Cordelia’s back.

“No. They’ll still need time to think about it. My parents can be stubborn people.”

“So. You come by it honestly, then.” Buffy’s words were softened by the smile. “We’ll have someone watch the house, just in case.

Cordelia leaned into Buffy. “Always have. Okay.” Then she glanced at Andrew, who was packing his demonstration supplies away. “Need help, Geek?”

It really was amazing, Buffy thought, how she could make the word sound like an insult, a title and an endearment, all at the same time.

Andrew smiled brightly at Cordelia. “I got it. You know, I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, but I think I did alright. Too bad Anya wasn’t here. That would have been legendary.” And, as if he really was back to being that young man and years of habit got switched off for a few brilliant seconds, he said, wistfully. “You know, I really thought I felt her earlier, when we … you know. I wish she were here with us.”

A blinding flash, and a puff of smoke later, a sandy-blonde woman, dressed in the latest student-fashion, upsided the back of Andrew’s head with her hand. The fact that his head stayed attached showed how gentle she was. That it stung evidenced the lesson. “Fool! What were you thinking! After all those years, haven’t you learned anything useful?”

She didn’t have time to threaten to carve spleen or force a wish or any number of possible punishments, because she was tackled by a suddenly giddy slayer. “Anya! Anya! Anya!”

And then the miscreant who called her forth turned, squealed and joined in; followed by the tall, but much more composed, high-school queen.

It was hard to stay mad with hugs like that. Except that there was one thing.

“What the hell did you people do to me?”


	10. Chapter 10

BTVS: In League Pt. 10

\-----BTVS multi-----

Sunnydale

\-----BTVS multi-----

Helen and Samantha both stood at the front of the sidewalk leading up to Willow’s house. In a way, their task was more of a formality than a necessity. Willow, via some very neat hacker-tricks had emancipated herself that morning, among other things; including ‘restoring’ certain Doctorates to those who had actually earned them. True, it might not last a contact on campus test, if someone were to try to find a particular professor, but from paperwork alone and the propensity of Universities to rely on management software for proof, those who had been and finished college had their right and correct degrees in all systems. She was a perfectionist that way.

It was one of the things they loved instantly about her, as they could relate.

She did not know they had taken upon themselves this particular mission.

Oddly, it was Sam’s idea to confront Willow’s parents, which Jack would have found hilarious, as she was often thought of as the “responsible” one of the team. However, despite initial disapproval of their treatment of their Red Witch, they had come to the conclusion that unlike Xander’s parents, Willow’s parents could potentially be ‘turned around’ and put to good use. They had a skill set that, from the memories that they inherited, were desperately needed among their group. More, after digging for information about them, it was apparent they were good at what they did. It was astonishing to Sam that they failed to apply what they knew to their own lives, yet at the same time managed to help so many other people.

It smacked of ‘something wrong’, which was why Helen was wearing a watch-like implement around her wrist and looking steadily at it. “There is an amazing amount of energy around this building. Look.” The brunette held her arm out in front of Sam, who gazed at it with an arched brow for a moment.

“You know, I suppose we ought to be grateful that we don’t have to carry around Proton packs.”

Helen blinked for a moment, “Wait. You know about them?”

“Them? Them who?”

“The Ghostbusters. I attended a paranormal conference once where Dr. Spengler described some...”

“Wait. Wait. You saw Dr. Spengler.”

“Oh yes. I would have stopped to speak with him, but I was due to take part in workshop right after his speech...”

Samantha opened her mouth to say something, then shook her head and closed her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them again, to look into the concerned gaze of her ‘cousin’, which was what they’d decided to pose as in order to steer conversations away from similarities and differences, she exhaled and said, “I never thought I’d look back at my life in SG-1 as simpler times.”

Helen’s laugh was warm. “Trust me, I understand. Shall we discuss the implications of the readings?”

“While we scout, yes, if we have time. But I’m not sure I see any true indicator of cause or reason, which would stymie my usual style of input to that kind of discussion. All I can say now is that there is an extra signature of energy of an unknown type.” The Major, which Sam still considered herself, though Willow had held back from interfering with those Federal files at least until the officer had a chance to think about her options, had started to make a move toward the garage, scoping out the parameters of the house. “As the least complicated answer is the one I’m less sanguine about, we probably should also make a consultation call to Donna. Especially given the pattern of strong points indicated.”

“Cars are here.”

“Hmm. They may actually be present tonight. Willow was somewhat vague on the memory of whether they would be or not.” They continued to walk around, though not completely, just scoping a look at the back over the fence.

“I don’t see any obvious tangible items which would be creating the energy signature.”

Samantha considered. “Could be buried under the ground.”

“Nor does the energy pattern seem to be repeated.”

“You thought there might be other houses.”

“Well, it was possible. The Sunnydale effect is somewhat unique. I had considered the possibility that this might be an enhancement.”

“Hmm. Think we’ve put it off long enough?”

“Probably. I note that there has been no attempt to determine why strangers are wandering around their house.”

“Interesting isn’t it.”

“Quite.”

After a few moments they were at the front door. Helen rang the bell, which could be heard even muffled, on the outside. Then the door opened.

Sheila Rosenberg, medium brown hair, medium height, and with a medium kind of smile on her face, which spoke of a professional distance that had been ingrained deeply and habitually, gazed at the two women at her doorstep. Her gaze dropped quickly over them, taking in details, mentally assessing and tagging, even as she said with a pleasant air, “May I help you?”

“We are hoping so. I’m Dr. Helen Magnus and this is Dr. Samantha Carter. We’re here to discuss several things, if you have the time. We honestly did not expect you to be home, but Willow was almost sure you would be.”

“You know my daughter?”

Sheila wasn’t quite sure what to make of their expressions. It mixed amusement with a touch of testiness, which was odd, as she was fairly sure her vocal inflection had not been provocative at all. 

The one who she thought could possibly be military answered, “You might say we do and she is part of the reason we are here. We have some information and documents you and Dr. Ira Rosenberg need to examine.” Samantha held up a thick catalog envelope. She did not hand it to Sheila, who moved from the doorway, opening a pathway silently.

Helen and Samantha glanced at each other, noting the action. Then, one after the other, they stepped through, but before they could go far, Dr. Magnus put her hand on Samantha’s arm. “Wait. Dr. Rosenberg, is your husband home tonight?”

“Yes.” Sheila had, for a brief moment, unconsciously relaxed.

“I believe it would be better for you to read the documents at our place, if you are willing.”

“You do understand that my husband and I are very busy. We’ve just arrived home and our schedule only allows for a brief visit with our daughter before we must be away again.”

“Interesting. And if I told you that your daughter would be there?”

“She’s supposed to come home after school.”

“There was no school today, Dr. Rosenberg. Did you notice anything different when you arrived in town today?”

The psychologist appeared uncomfortable. She glanced toward an opening that probably led to a family room. “No school, you say. Was there...”

“An event, yes. The news explains it as a gas main leak. It was not.”

Sheila blinked at Dr. Magnus for a moment. “I see. You expect me to take your word for it.”

“No. But I expect you, as a trained observer to notice when things are vastly different from their original specifications. I’m sure you know exactly what your house used to look like.”

Sheila shivered. “I ...”

“If you come with us, we can explain what really happened and you can visit with Willow. I’m sure she would be happy to see you. It has been some... time since you’ve last seen each other.”

“My husband and I....”

“It was not a criticism,” Helen lifted her hand, but then her expression firmed, “But I notice you are aware that there might be some, which is interesting. Are you fighting it still? Whatever it is that is keeping you from your child?”

Sheila's eyes flashed and for a moment it seemed as if she wanted to scream, but then her features slipped into that professional, icy distance again. “Would you like something to drink, while we discuss whatever it is you wished to talk about Doctors? What makes you so interested in Willow? I can share a few observations, if you wish...”

“Oh damn,” Samantha murmured and she and Helen shared a glance. It was suddenly obvious that Willow’s parents had been meddled with.

The Red Witch was not going to be happy.

\-----BTVS multi----

The Doctors Rosenberg had the expression of persons who were trying very hard to simply observe without appearing shocked, while at the same time, being forced through unknown metaphysical means to process what they were seeing into socially justifiable norms. This meant their actual expression was slightly constipated, somewhat arrogant; and that they were utterly unsuccessful in their effort to appear merely interested. However, they held back any real questions, which of itself was telling as these were professionals and persons who, aside from their issues with Sunnydale and their daughter had deep interests and curiosities. 

Both Sam and Helen were highly aware of this, but they too held back; Helen, in favor of observation, and Sam, because she was normally cautious when it came to people.

The one who was not holding back was their current guide, Isk. The Jaegermonster was happily and excitedly telling Helen, Sam, Willow’s Parents and anyone within hearing range of their walking “tour” through the castle, about the changes that had been happening most recently. He was especially excited about the new creature facility, which he called the fiend pit. 

Helen’s eyes had lit up then and said, “You mean they’re building a sanctuary for abnormals as I suggested?”

“Notting abnormal about anyting on ta Hellmut, jah. Ist par, correct. Just a couple of pits for ta friendlier fiends what wit ta long, wavy tentacles und ta zjarp tooths tat needs a place to zleep.”

Helen slid a glance to Samantha, smiled despite herself and said, “Ah. I see. Are they perhups... I mean, perhaps, going to be building places for visiting creatures who don’t have tentacles.”

“Already gots them all around ta place. They called guest rooms, jah.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

At first glance, Willow was the epitome of calm. She kept saying words like, “Oh, I see.” Or, “How interesting.” Or, “Was there any indication of how long the energy has been around my parents house?” Every now and then she’d glance at her parents who were gawking a little at her demeanor or perhaps at the respect with which information was delivered to her, as if she were someone with influence. However, she did not let that glance linger.

She listened as Helen and Sam offered their best guesses and the data they collected. Then she nodded and said, “Thank you. I don’t believe we will need to consult with Dr. Donna at this time. However, go ahead and give her the data. She might find it interesting,” before standing up.

“Dad, Mom, you’re staying here for a bit. The house needs to be fumigated.” 

“Willow, I don’t recall ordering pest service.”

“Oh. You didn’t.” Willow’s eyes flashed black for a second, causing those who observed it to jerk back a little, but then her eyes returned to normal. Her parents thought they imagined the change, but Sam and Helen knew they had not. Her smile chilled, even as she said with some sympathy, “But it needs it and I’m not entirely sure it will survive. I’m quite... peeved.” She glanced at Helen and Sam, “Would you mind finding them a room.”

“Isk already did, we might need to get some clothes from...”

“Nope. Nothing more is coming out of that house to here. Not a thing. Get my parents some robes and them out of those clothes and take the jewelry, rings included. We’ll salvage those if we can, because they have meaning. But that will be seen to later. Call Dawn and tell her my parents need clothes and sundry. She loves shopping sprees.”

“You believe the clothes and household objects are contaminated?”

“I’m not taking a chance that they are or are not. If it’s energy, it’s saturation. It could be cell deep, but we’re starting with clothes and belongings. I have always wondered why Mom always stored the heirlooms in the bank. Now I think I understand. It’s like the fact that I started staying at the Summer’s house almost as soon as I had the invitation and once there I basically stayed. Though, again, it may be because Joyce-Mom wouldn’t let me stay alone in the house. The subconscious often knows what the mind can not process.”

Sam and Helen glanced at each other, suddenly nodding. “I believe we have a consensus.”

Willow stood up, letting her gaze fall on her confused parents who immediately began to protest. She smiled, despite herself. This was familiar.

She raised her hand, not expecting them to quiet, but they did; surprising her. 

She then moved forward and kissed her mom, then her dad, on the cheek. “I love you both.” Then, without further word, she disappeared from the room. 

\-----BTVS multi-----

A Scooby from futures past would tell you that there are very few things scarier than Willow on a tear. They would not be facetious or joking around. Some of them even would literally shiver when they said, “Don’t get on her bad side.” 

Some of the newest residents, who were still acclimating to the reality shift into Sunnydale, were learning this fact on their own.

Willow appeared mid-air, hovering, just over the street in front of her parent’s house. The stillness of her figure provided an illusion of serenity. Her arrival, however, prompted a few passing by to stop and stare, while those in the neighboring houses either lifted or closed the blinds depending on the capacity of the neighbors to “deal with,” or be “entertained by,” the current local drama; especially given that many were still in recovery from Halloween the night before.

The air around Willow vibrated, shimmering like the haze on a desert road. Her raven-dark hair rose as if a wind, non-existent otherwise, had risen. Her clothes likewise fluttered, turning from levi blue and silk maroon to darkest black. Lightening bolts of black formed along her exposed skin, her arms, her neck, her face. Her eyes lost their color. 

She lifted her arms and raised her hands as if she were pressing a wall in front of her. Words scrolled along her palms, unspoken. Her first word was hardly a whisper. “Reveal.”

At first there was resistance to her command, and so, with one hand, she made a tugging motion. Then, as if she’d pulled the string off a full container, the energy surrounding and embedding her old home flared, almost bright except for the fact that it was so very blood-dark. It filled the house, flowed through it in constant waves, normally unobservable. 

“Reveal,” she said again. Her voice cool, oddly modulated. Again there was a flare, but this time, it was as if time were set in a very fast backward motion. It hardly lasted five minutes, but Willow, being Willow, observed and mentally recorded it all; including the part where the construction itself included ancient and terrible runes and magic. 

It was, she considered, feeling slightly distant from it all, amazing that grass even grew on the plot. 

She looked for motivations, for the reason, but found no obvious villain. The ones who did the first magic were robed and their faces well hidden and everything else about the construction - even the placement of the runes - were so very mundane as to hardly be noticeable; except by the trained eye.

Willow closed her hands into fists, closed her eyes. She tried to breathe in calm, but knew that was a failing effort. The truth was, if she wanted it to be over, she needed it to be quick, and thorough.

And maybe cathartic.

When she opened her eyes, she exhaled. When she opened her palms, fire poured forth. It blew like thunder across the yard, the melting sidewalk, through the wilting blackened door of her old home. She moved her hands and she grieved as the trees and the bushes caught fire too, and the garage and the fence that encompassed the back yard. 

She walked into that fire, unscathed, liberating nothing and scorching everything, making sure that it was all caught. The fire blazed from her hands, her soul, scouring the ground and drying her tears instantly. 

It was a matter of minutes, instead of hours. She was surrounded by ashes, which floated in the air, layered the ground. She stood in the middle of the slag relief of where a basement used to be. Then, when the alarm of the fire truck blared close enough, even though there was nothing to do except wash water over smoke, she left just as she arrived, without even a pop of sound. 

\-----BTVS multi-----

Oz and his companion stared at the thick gate. "I don't think they're expecting us."

"They're expecting me, though maybe I should have called," the man said. He smiled reassuringly at Mihoshi.

"But you are bringing a stranger. I am not ...."

"My pack are good people." Even as he said this, and before he had a chance to reach for the knocker, the gate swung open.

A fuzzy person, with a big hat and wide smile full of big teeth, greeted them. "Velcome! Lady Agatha said hyu'd come. Ve's been expecting hyu."

Oz turned to Mihoshi. "See."

\-----BTVS multi-----

Mihoshi sipped her tea with ladylike grace, legs crossed at the ankles, holding the cup and dish just so. Across from her, Joyce set her teacup down on the small table between them. “Oz tells me you are a police woman?”

Mihoshi nodded her head sharply and smiled brightly. “I sure am. Galaxy Police Detective First Class.” Then she frowned and set her own tea down, “Though I’m not sure it counts now. I wasn’t able to get anyone on any of the channels and...” her lip quivered, “... I don’t remember starting the hyperdrive.”

Joyce reached and patted the younger woman. “It’s going to be alright. We do have some answers for you, though perhaps not the one’s you’re hoping for. But I was wondering if you might be willing to help us with a small project?”

Mihoshi’s expression brightened again. “What kind of project?”

“I need an assistant. I think, perhaps, you would probably fit the bill.” Joyce leaned back and crossed her legs, smiled. “Let’s talk about your experience with peacekeeping.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Generally speaking the things that alerted Willow to the presence of others were senses of a magical nature rather than the usual five and some that others of her new pack might lean towards. As soon as she re-entered the renovated Casa Summer, she pinged the presence of ‘were’ before she picked up the next flavor of energy, which was sweetly familiar. It was enough to set off a cascade of action, with the redhead witch suddenly sprinting through the long hallway, bounding past a door that opened just in time and then shouting a longwinded, “Oz!” that rang through the house.

A day ago the young man wouldn’t have known what to make of it, though he would have enjoyed it, as he’d had his eye on a shy redheaded girl for awhile. But his arms wrapped around the woman with an intense hug of familiarity, holding tightly to the person his other self had thought long lost to him as more than just a friend. 

They pulled back from one another at the same time, both taking in the sight of one beloved; both smiling. Oz pressed his hand to her cheek in a caress and said, “Hey.”

She smiled brightly at him. “Hey back. They didn’t tell me you’d come. I was hoping, and I thought I felt you, but then things got really busy and I’m so very glad to see you.”

His smile expanded and his hand dropped to take one of hers. “Me too. Got some questions, if you have answers.” He tugged her toward a place with soft chairs and a little privacy.

“I might have some answers.” And she would give them honestly, even if it hurt. 

“Cool.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Given the opportunity, Willow was, in general, fairly good at introductions. But, when it came to Oz, even after they talked, she realized she still flashed-back emotionally to the time when the short redhead met Tara for the first time. Still, it was fun to walk around the new and growing Castle. He found great amusement in getting lost and showing her that he could follow his nose to get back to the main rooms. Along the way they encountered Dawn and Kit, which was a bit more touchy-feely than either of them were expecting, but it was fun. They also met Agatha, who intrigued Oz because she smelled a bit exotic to him, yet like family. 

He made that comment more than once, explaining that while previously he had been able to build a pack relationship with those he tutored, he never felt the natural sense of pack; until now. Willow might be flashing back, but Oz recognized his people, even if they were strangers. 

He enjoyed that aspect very much. He also liked the fact that he could distinguish type of Pack in smell, there were the Pack-Mates and then the Pack-Minions and both had a unique scent to him. 

Oz, who had always been mellow, seemed to have centered even more. This had been true in the past, but he said to Willow as they strolled through the small garden courtyard that had revealed itself during their walk, “I can actually feel my shoulders relaxing. I don’t know why. This is Sunnydale.”

Willow nodded. “I know what you mean. I guess it’s feels familiar, but different. I mean, I definitely feel the hellmouth, and now that the chaotic energy is starting to subside a little more, I’m feeling more myself. But I also feel better, strangely. Peaceful. And not just because,” she paused and gave him a sideways squeeze, “people I love are here, though that helps.”

He grinned at her, squeezed her back. Then, as if noting how relaxed he felt was a signal, his senses sparked. He stilled in the middle of the small pathway, causing Willow to also stall. 

His nostrils flared and he felt a moment of confusion. He felt alerted to danger, but comforted by the sense of family, and at the same time, felt as if he were in the presence of an ancient power; not including Willow.

Before he could formulate the question for himself beyond the instinctive growl, a large black wolf manifested in front of them; literally appearing as if from out of nowhere. He pushed Willow behind him without thinking, trying to fit the piece to the puzzle, while taking a protective stance. 

The creature changed, morphing much more quickly than he might have expected and with no apparent sense of pain. It was just, one moment there was a wolf and the next, there was a tall woman with brilliant blue eyes. 

“Hello Willow,” Mina stalked forward, her eyes grazed both of them up and own. “I thought I felt you near.” 

And just like that she was close, much closer than he had intended to let her become. Her fingers drifted along his shirt and up, looping around the leather strap of the amulet he’d immediately crafted for himself, once he realized what he was - again. “Wolf,” she greeted softly, drawing very close to scent him, or maybe just to whisper in his ear, “You don’t need this any more, or haven’t you realized?”

“I feel better knowing I have it.”

“Hmm. I suppose I can understand that, but my advice is to not let it be a crutch. Then again, you have no reason to listen to my advice.”

“Mina,” Willow whispered against the pressure in the room, “Play nice. This is Oz. He’s...”

“Ours. I can smell you in his blood, us in his pulse.” He held still as her breath covered his neck. “Can you smell me?”

He couldn’t help the inhale, which was potent, sweet, and filled with much more life than he expected. “Yes.”

His reply held a wealth of meaning. 

“Good.” She turned her gaze toward Willow again, pulling away. “Are you two doing anything this evening? I thought I might explore a bit. I like knowing what my surroundings are.”

Willow and Oz looked at each other. It was the young man who said, “We’ll come.”

Mina smiled cheerfully, “If you’re lucky.”


	11. Chapter 11

BTVS: In League Pt. 11

\-----BTVS multi-----  
November 1, 1997 - Chicago

\-----BTVS multi-----

The pounding headache wasn’t really a surprise after a college party. Waking up nude and smelling a bit like sex and beer wasn’t too startling. That the bed was a king-sized was a bit different, as were the very soft sheets. Beside the bed, on a side table was a glass of something tomato-ey and two pills.

The young, toned, and very fit blonde woman who’d just awakened shifted so she was sitting in the bed, back to the headboard, supported by a pillow. Around the room she spotted remnants of her costume; a fairy wing here, a shoe there, a framed picture tilted just a little oddly by the bra hanging off of it.

She very trustingly took the pills, drinking the whole concoction without so much as a bad swallow.

It didn’t taste horrible, which was a sincere relief.

She then leaned back, closed her eyes and tried to gather her thoughts. Then her eyes widened with alacrity.

The problem wasn’t that she did not remember what had happened. The problem was that she remembered far too much; enough for three lifetimes and hints of more behind her mind’s eye. She definitely recalled a recent one where she ran from dead people still walking until she learned how to fight them. Another where she was called to slay. And this one, where everything, until last night, had been so very normal; with parents who lived and loved her and her brother, now in the army, and her with a nearly complete stint at college after an unusually early enrollment because she was just too smart to stay in high school.

Oh, and she’d slept with her favorite professor, Abernathy, last night. A bit under the influence of false courage, but before the memories had slammed down on her in her sleep, and in a way, that was an oddly saving grace. Because, the fact that she’d approached and been accepted by her lover meant something to Claire, something warm and life affirming; if a little odd on the scale of universal possibilities.

After all, how often many lifetimes did one get to meet their savior and watcher and best friend.

For a moment, Claire thought she might not be a slayer this go around. Slayers rarely got the kind of headaches the alcohol brought on. It was one of the “cool features.” Then turning just a bit as she remembered what she’d seen earlier, but hadn’t yet contextualized, she looked back at the headboard. It bore distinct handprints, which she recognized from when she was first learning how to moderate her newfound strength. She realized now that she had been thoroughly, utterly changed and that there might be more things ahead to learn. 

At least it wasn’t Zombies, though. Visions of the traumatic past flitted behind her throbbing eyes.

Zombies. Running. More Zombies. Life and Death. Her rescuer tearing open a portal with her mind, intending to be left behind when the world was ending. Claire refusing to let that happen. The world starting over. Claire being called by the Slayer and Her Witch and her not-in-your-standard-mold Watcher was her favorite professor in this life ...

“Alice!”

As the other woman raced into the room, Claire realized she probably should have modified her tone a little. Alice’s eyes were wide open and slightly crazed. She held two big knives in her hands, as if she’d been in the middle of chopping something.

Claire raised her empty hands. “I’m okay. I’m okay. I just...” How did you ask if someone remembered you, if they knew more than what had happened last night. On the other hand, maybe she ought to ask... “What day is today?”

The redhead, tall and shapely, held still for just a little longer, taking in the whole room, Claire, the empty glass. Then she slowly dropped her hands, knives to the side and much less prepared to do damage. “What day do you think it is?”

Oh. It was going to be that way. Claire did not roll her eyes, but she pulled the sheet up a little, even as she felt silly doing it. After all, what could be seen, had been. She answered tentatively, as if testing the waters. “Day after Halloween. Party. You. Me. Did you pass me?”

Damn. Did she just blush? She did not. Shoot. Yes she did.

Alice settled even more, smiling that twisty little smile of hers. “You pass or fail on your own.” She moved to the bed, setting the knives by the empty glass. And then wrapped a strong arm around the younger woman, and pulled her close to kiss her temple. “You’re okay.”

Claire exhaled. “I am now. Head really hurts. I didn’t drink that much.”

She felt the smile at her temple. Then on her lips. “Neither did I.” When Alice pulled back, then the younger woman could see the lines that spoke of pain.

She could have cried with relief. Instead she bit her lower lip, nibbled it some. “What do we do?”

“We could date I suppose, but that would seem a bit silly.”

Claire laughed lightly and leaned her head on Alice’s shoulder. “Do you think any of the old numbers work?” 

“We need to find out. We can use the computer in my office to conduct some searches.” Thinking of her office, prompted Alice to contemplate her classes. She anticipated that she would need to make arrangements to cover her courses for the next week at least. She was concerned about the timing of the event and the points of vulnerability that existed for herself and Claire now. 

Not the least, the question remained as to whether they were alone...

Her mind flashed again to her classes, as if that were something important and she tried to shunt it aside with self-reassurance that she would get to grading and then her mind flashed to her gradebook and then to a memory of a brown-haired, brown-eyed student.

Sachs, Andrea.

“We may not be alone.”

As usual, Claire was right behind her on the mental track. “Andy.”

\----- BTVS multi-----

By morning, Lily, Doug and Andy had a form of a plan. The campus offices wouldn’t be open until Monday, which meant paperwork withdrawals could only be submitted, not confirmed. They had gone shopping at Andy’s insistence, early in the morning, procuring items for the trip they were planning; food, goods, clothes and odd bits of weaponry, courtesy of the pawn shop. Doug happened to have a pistol, his, which he owned legally for the purpose of self defence. Lily wasn’t too comfortable with the wooden stake in her purse, or the implications of a holy-water-pistol, but she trusted Andy and the new cross at her neck at least would match her outfits. Then there were the “other” supplies, magical items which took the bulk of the morning to find, which meant going into some spooky little shops.

This was actually the most interesting part of the shopping spree for Doug and Lily, though they had been a bit surprised at the vast change of Andy’s clothing choices. It was as if she’d actually looked at one of the fashion magazines that they had scattered around the apartment.

At their looks of disbelief, Andy shrugged and smiled. “When your wife is the Goddess of Fashion, you're bound to pick up a few things, even by osmosis.”

“Just who were you married to again?” Lily asked. Something was niggling at her.

“Miranda Priestly, Editor of Runway magazine. It was practically the Fashion Bible of the World.”

“Hold up!” Lily suddenly froze. “You were married to Lady Miranda Priestly?!?”

“Lils?”

“Vogue did a story on Lady Miranda Priestly. She bought the Elias Clarke Publishing Conglomerate. Andy, she’s in New York, with her daughters and her husband.” 

Somehow Andy managed not to break the very valuable magical bauble in her hand. Though she reflexively grip it tightly. She tried and failed to school her features into neutrality. “Husband.” She swallowed and grimaced. “Of course she has a husband.”

She took a deep breath and then another before finally asking, “Did it mention where she was staying?”

“Uh, no.” Lily said. “They wouldn’t put information like that in Vogue.”

The bauble was in danger of shattering, even as Andy plastered on a smile. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to find out.”

After that, it seemed to Doug and Lily as if they were, or rather Andy was, shopping on speed. 

It wasn’t until Lily called a timeout for brunch, since they’d not even had breakfast yet, that Andy slowed down. “I tell you, if I don’t get food right now, you’re gonna feel the end of that pointy stick you gave me, Andy. And you won’t like where it goes. I get you’re upset. I get we’re in a hurry, but Doug and I are hungry and tired and there’s no reason for us to be hauling ass right now. You said we had time. So feed me or feel my wrath, Andy Panda.”

It was really the nickname that soothed the inner railing in Andy’s head enough for her to listen. “Sorry, Lils. I had a moment.”

“Forgiven.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

They packed as they went, not wanting to waste too much time, even though they knew they’d be returning to their apartment a few more times before setting out. They planned in a nap, because their night had been cut short and no one wanted to try driving on Red Bull and coffee alone.

So they went home after grabbing some food, choosing to go with take out. 

Lily carried the containers, while Doug and Andy carted up the stuff that needed reorganizing at home. 

As they reached the top of the stairs and entered the hallway leading to their apartment, they all slowed and then stopped. 

Leaning against the wall was a very familiar, but kind of terrifying woman, looking a lot less like the ever intimidating Dr. Abernathy and wearing much more casual clothing than anything Doug, Lily or Andy were used to seeing on the professor. Beside her was one of their cohort, an occasional classmate, Claire Redfield. 

Their attention had swiveled in the direction of Andy and her friends at the same time. The brunette journalist nearly dropped her packages, as a wave of relief rolled through her when Alice cocked a brow and said, “We tried calling first. As I recall, one of the rules is that a team's mages should always stay in touch with at least one of their Watchers. Where have you been, Andy?”

“Be nice, Alice. I know you can smell her stress as much as I can. We both know where her first thoughts would naturally go.” Claire said. She strolled toward Andy, with the easy gate of a predator and took one of the heavier bags from Andy’s hand. She glanced briefly at the other two. “Hi.” Then she used her free hand to cup Andy’s face and leaned in, kissing her softly and briefly. Andy leaned in, accepting the one armed hug that followed as a temporary refuge. 

Doug, feeling it necessary to answer their professor out of an instinct for scholastic survival and a standard courtesy, peeled his shocked attention away, and stammered out an answer to Alice’s question. “We’re going on a road trip, shopping, stuff. Very important. Um. We won’t be in class on Monday.”

Alice’s brisk laugh echoed in the hallway.

\-----BTVS multi-----

They were almost out the door when Andy’s cellphone rang. They were taking two vehicles and Alice was already in the SUV. Doug and Lily had just trekked into the hall and Claire was going to be the last out. The only reason anyone paused at all was because Andy had mentioned that there was an off chance that they might receive a call. Puffing air through her cheeks as she realized she needed to take this unknown caller, Andy dropped the pack and the duffle she had been carrying. It was grabbed by Claire, who had become their “pack-horse,” by default. 

Andy dug at her belt and the clip on holder there.. “Keep ringing, keep ringing.” Finally, she got the phone loose and tapped it on, before answering, “Sach’s house of pain. How may we smite you?”

“Andy? Is this my Andy?”

“Brit. Oh Sweetie! You did it!” Andy’s grin, which had been sorely missed by her friends, lit up the room. That grin was returned by Claire who somehow managed a thumbs up even with all the gear she was carrying. The slayer then jerked her head toward the door to let Andy know she was taking it all out and got a nod in return, even as Andy continued with, “I am so glad to hear from you.”

“Me too!” Andy could practically feel the beam of success from Brittany. Then the younger woman said, “Rachel really needs to talk with you, so I’m going to give her the phone. Thanks for sending me the numbers, even if they did fly around in my head a lot.”

“I’ll make it up to you Ducks.”

“I know.” Brittany said with absolute confidence. “Here’s Rache.”

There was a gasp, a near squeal. Andy could almost picture them engaging in a brief hug of success. Then a breathy voice said, “Andrea.” Rachel said it like Miranda did, which both tickled and reassured the brunette that she was talking to the right person. “Andy Sachs. I am so glad we caught you. I expect you’re doing some of what we’ve been doing, though on a escalated scale. Are you where you can talk?”

Andy pulled the phone back from her ear and looked at it, then put it back so she could reply. “Rachel! Hi! Yes. As far as availability is concerned, I’m at my apartment. You’re timing was great. We were on our way out. Where are you?”

“Perhaps the better question is when. However, I am in Lima, Ohio. We’re gathering at here, at my house. The year is...”

Relief continued to inflect Andy’s tone, even as she laid down the date and time like a gauntlet. Then she said, “Rachel, I know why I am here now, well, not entirely why, but I am pretty sure that, aside from a few details, I’m in the right time, if not place, but you, sound mighty grown up for this year. Not that I’m not thrilled to hear you, because I very much am, but I have to ask myself why I am hearing a more mature you.”

“Andy, we’re all asking that question. But obviously we’ve experienced a bit of a displacement. Or rather, I think, a replacement, or sorts.”

“Tell me more about this we...”

Rachel quickly explained how Noah had arrived and how she had made contact with the Cheerios and then added, “and I believe it is likely since the majority of our...”

Andy nodded, even though she knew it couldn’t be seen. But Rachel’s commentary had confirmed her sense of things so far. “Family,” she finished for her.

“True and factual, yes, but I’m currently trying not to alarm my fathers so I was going to say teammates. At least until we could explain more. As, after all, they do not yet have the years and years of memories and possibly alternate realities that... well, I assume, you and I and our local cadre do.”

“I think we’re mostly on the same wavelength. So you know, Alice and Claire are here, with me. And I’ve come out to Doug and Lily, so they’re going to be coming with me on this little road trip.” That caused a happy gasp on the other end of the phone. “I know. Right. But I figured why not give it a go this time. I know I said it already, but we’re packed and ready to roll. We planned on stopping in Lima first anyway ...”

“If only to find out if you have to torture yourself for your losses? Aren’t you glad you don’t have to now?” Rachel teased gently. She absolutely understood the impulse as she’d also had that momentary fear before making contact with her Cheerios. “I think maybe a change of plans in order. We were able to contact Sunnydale. I’ll call them again after we’ve finished talking here, so I can relay plans. Andy. I should mention that Quinn, being who she is, bought a handful of magazines in our supply run last night. Things are not exactly as they were in our previous incarnations. I know you would prefer us all to travel together, but I am of the opinion it would be of benefit to us all if you would go straight to New York and, at the very least, find out what is what, ”

“But you are all there...”

“If you try to come here first, you’ll tack on several hours, minimum. And despite the fact that Lima is closer, the highways make a faster route from Chicago possible. I am absolutely positive you need to go straight home... well... you know... as close to it as we can manage, first. Now that you know we’re alright, we can wait on our reunion. Plus, we have a few things that need resolving here. Parental shock needs soothing and information needs gathering. As well as more clothes and supplies in general, as we’re pretty much starting out with nothing and that inevitably means shopping and packing, when we’re finally ready to go, which adds even more time. And that means, a definitely delay on doing what we both find most pressing, but also, there are few details that need … attending, before I’ll feel right about taking any sort of trip, no matter how desperately I want to. Call it me being psychic, or just knowing you and how you get when you’re worried about certain people. Whatever helps you understand that I am serious about this.” Rachel said reasonably.

Andy’s blood seemed to ice over. “You plan on cleaning out Lima? Are you sure that’s a good idea..”

“It’s not a good idea. It’s a necessary action. I will not have any of our parents or relatives or future friends living here without at least taking out the trash. We did a tiny patrol last night and found a nest of all things. It doesn’t seem big, and certainly there’s no master at the center of it, but it has to go. Plus, it’s not like Lima is on the Hellmouth, which isn’t open yet anyhow. We have the majority of our team here and it is maybe the work of a night, if that much...”

Andy pinched the bridge of her nose, and closed her eyes, trying to think. “You have one Watcher..”

“And four of us. Four, Andy. In Lima. Which, while it is larger than most people realize, is not New York and its teeming masses. This is something we can do, even if we weren’t who and what we are. It would simply take a little longer, as normally I’d want to arm us differently.”

“I wish you had more magical back up.”

“Well, we did manage basic disclosure with the parents, and while they are not yet skilled, nor have they established their magical connection, they are dab hands at learning if we need them to be. Not that I believe it to be an immediate necessity, at all. It will be alright, Andy. And keep in mind that I am just as concerned by the fact that currently New York doesn’t have a single team in place and you’ll understand my urgent desire for you to get the lead out and be there. You need to get started, get some food and drink in you and take that extra stamina that is ours in common and make it useful. Get home Andy. Make sure those who are ours are safe.”

“But will you be okay with the fact that I’ll be there before you?”

“Of course we will be alright with the fact you’ll get there before us. In fact, it’s as it should be. You were there before us previously. It is highly appropriate that it should be so again, I think. And we will be depending upon you. It is going to be all on you to find out what the situation really is, which is the only way we’ll really be able to plan what to do next. It’s not like we can just call her up. That said, what we really need to do is establish contact times for while you're on your road trip. I’m very glad you have someone with you.”

“If you let me swing by Lima then contact points wouldn’t be necessary.”

“But it is impractical, given what we we all need to know. It will make a difference, Andy, in what we decide to do and where we decide to establish our next... base. Let me give you some numbers...”

Andy sighed, but gave in, as everyone but Miranda and Alice usually did when it came to the tiny Diva Slayer. “Okay, let me get some paper.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Elsewhere, far from Ohio, across a vast ocean and on an important and historically powerful island, someone else was fetching paper. Not that he wanted to, but it was required. Alonzo had served his mistress for many years, at first with confidence and later with ticks and twitches and pure adoration. He was still mostly confident, but Cruella De Vil was a woman of many moods and very few of them were made of sunshine.

Today’s mood was particularly and inexplicably stormy. And early, very early in the morning. It was five a.m. and she already had him scrambling. On a Saturday.

Not that it wasn’t his job to scramble on Saturdays, but rather, her usual mode involved indulgently sleeping into the mid-morning and then breakfast, a brief perusal of the news, and a check in of any pressing business. She hated disruption of routine on the best of day and he had no idea what had caused the havoc that he was currently experiencing.

“Well!” She snapped, as she paced. Smoke swirled dangerously around her head like a venomous halo. The filtered cigarette holder in her hand acted as pointer. “Did you find it?”

Alonzo cleared his throat, attempting to stymie his usual stutter before it even began, but he failed. His words and letters skipped as he replied, “I w-was able to a-a-acquire some of the numbers you requested, b-b-but, some were not a-available. I have placed a r-request for a date and time with B-British R-Runway for the the interview you have f-f-finally accepted.”

She snatched the paper from his trembling fingers and glanced at it with a half a sneer. “I suppose this will have to do. The interview is today?”

“Yes, Ms. D-De Vil.” He lowered his eyes some, out of respect, but this did not mean he did not take a moment to appreciate what he was seeing. He wondered whether she'd had a spa treatment lately, given that she was looking particularly ... Well, youthful wasn’t the exact word, though she did look younger, healthier... Delicious.

She spoke sharply, and it startled him from his perusal enough that he jumped. “Good. Have my bags packed. We’re going overseas. I feel the need to visit the New World.”

“M-Ms. De Vil?”

“What? I have business. You’ll see the notes in your email.”

He blinked at her. “I w-was unaware that you kn-knew how to use e-email...”

He knew as soon as he began that questioning her skills was a mistake. Her attention turned more fully on him, and not in a good way as a fake smile stretched across her face. “I know how to do many things, Alonzo. Including how to skin a man alive and keep them that way.”

He shivered and not just at the tone. “I b-b-b-beg your p-p-pardon, Ms. De Vil.”

She waved him off, with a roll of her eyes and a flick of a cigarette that had yet to be smoked. “Whatever. Go and get it done. Have the jet prepped, make sure all the puppies are returned to their rightful homes. Without getting caught, mind you. Oh, and if there are some left over, leave them with the Darlings, with a note about it all being a prank and enough money to see to the puppies care for six months.” She smiled cruelly. “After that they can find their own fiscal supplementation. After all, the Darlings absolutely love Dalmatians.”

Stunned, Alonzo turned around smartly and left the room, only to pause after the door closed. A tremble of relief slithered through him, then burst into a kind of dazzling display of surreal awareness. It had all been a joke; a terrible, clever and diabolical joke.

He never was going to have to do such awful deeds.

And in that moment, his loyalty to Ms. De Vil trebled.

\-----BTVS multi-----


	12. Chapter 12

BTVS: In League Pt. 12

November 1, 1997 - Lima, Ohio

\-----BTVS multi-----

The Cheerios, by nature of their calling, were all night people, yet at the same time they had, ingrained as a deep habit, the ability to wake at the crack of dawn. Fortunately for them, this did not necessarily mean they lacked getting enough sleep. Slayers could naturally function on less sleep, though they treasured the opportunity for sleep-ins a great deal. They also, had the ability to grab catnaps and benefit from them as much as a pure night’s sleep; most times.

Halloween had been a long night, not conducive to much normal rest and one that had not inevitably led to addressing any issue of personal sexual satisfaction. In fact, it had been the exact opposite, which lead to Santana pouting before and after breakfast and pre-phone call to Andy. It did not help that Rachel pointed out something that had settled over their small portion of the clan like a bomb. 

“You do realize we’re all virgins now, including Noah. And, none of us are currently on any kind of birth control.” She said it as if it were the most normal thing, as they started gathering together.

Noah, who was definitely not awake enough to process this, merely grunted at the pronouncement. Up until Quinn said, “So that means no fun for you, unless you and your mini-puck are sacked up tight.”

“The Puckasaurus always plays safe,” he half whined. Then he took a sip of his coffee and sighed. “Why am I up again?”

“Almost always. I seem to recall a youthful indiscretion or two. Or more. And you’re up because you are part of the team and we need your expertise in getting set up for busting the nest; which brings me to there was a reason for me mentioning the fact previous.”

“Do we have to have this conversation before coffee?”

“No, just before the parents wake up.”

“Which reminds me, we don’t need protection like Puck. So why didn’t you let us play again?”

“No soundproofing. The neighbors didn’t require it until I was in middle school, when the range of my voice suddenly increased. Plus, I thought we wanted to be discreet. Unless you really want us to wake up the Dads and Judy after a night like last night.”

“Okay, that’s hilarious and … legit. Damn it. We need our own place, even if it’s a hotel room.”

Rachel nodded in total agreement. “Once we handle the nest, that becomes more likely. I was thinking, perhaps, we could scope out the neighborhood and the building we spotted and begin strategizing; perhaps go to a coffee shop for some brunch to discuss our findings?”

“As long as we can get our mack on in a reasonable amount of time. Too long and we’re gonna make it in the woods. I’m not waiting another twenty-four hours.”

“You ain’t the only one feeling the heat,” Quinn said with a leer. “But I got to respect that Mom isn’t ready to find us getting more than moderately friendly. You know the way this game is played. We’ll be having a good time and someone will open a door and scream.”

There was a nearly simultaneous group shudder. It had been one of the few in-common experiences of their teen years; inevitable parental-discovery.

Santana relented and let the rest of them cuddle her back into a cheerful mood. But Brittany had not forgotten Rachel’s comment about reasons for pointing out their virginity, and thought upon it, though she held her peace.

After they finally made it to the dining room for their respective breakfasts, Brittany finally was able to figure out the numbers that had been impressed upon her, thanks to the creative use of one of those generic alphabet cereals that just happened to include numbers. She just kept rearranging them until it felt right.

“Rachy, what’s this number?” She asked the Diva. “It feels like Andy, but it’s not one I know.”

The tiny Slayer moved around to her side of the table and looked at the cereal numbers spread out. She was trying to work it out, when the house phone rang. Then the answer was clear as a day. She reached out and split the long numeral, into a section of three, three and four. A phone number.

“That’s a Chicago AC.” Santana commented. “Didn’t Andy say she went to college there?”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Hours later, the parents were awake and mostly functioning after their late night, and the phone call to Chicago had successfully been made from the Berry’s home. Because of what he overheard, Hiram was convinced more than ever that his daughter was part of an expanded household. LeRoy, meanwhile, had begun making mental calculations that had him realizing that his daughter and her friends might need more help than anyone realized and he wasn’t entirely sure what that might mean in the long run. Judy appeared to be confused, but she was processing things much more quickly than her slayer-daughter realized and coming to some rather firm decisions. Franny was just happy to watch cartoons and play with the Berry’s game console, while her younger-older sister and friends went to more deeply investigate what was going on with that house at the far end of Elm Street. 

The parents met in the kitchen, much as their children had earlier. Hiram began assembling some sandwiches. 

Judy wasn’t entirely sure how to frame her thoughts, but she felt the need to get them out there. “Thank you both for allowing me into your home.” The words were uttered quietly. “I know we haven’t spoken in a long time. I know,” she paused and swallowed. Hiram’s hands stopped moving and he stilled, his back to her. LeRoy set aside the plate he was holding. “... how very difficult it must be to have me in your home after, well, after everything. I can’t even begin to excuse some of the things that have been said or done...”

“They weren’t done by you.” Hiram said, as he started his busy work again. 

“But I did not stop it either.”

“Could you have?” LeRoy asked. He placed a hand on your shoulder. “Do you really think you could have stopped Russell for long.”

“I thought by marrying him...”

“He would change.”

Judy laughed a little and smiled ruefully. “And he did. Just... not the way I hoped.”

“Are you going back to him?”

Judy looked down and folded her hands in her lap. When she looked back up, she saw that Hiram was standing in front of her, a plate with a sandwich in his hand. His eyes were still kind, even after all these years. “No. I won’t be. I can’t. Not with Lucy.... Quinn, being what she is. He would never accept her and frankly, I can’t go through what she said happens. Not knowing it was like for her.”

“So you believe her.”

“It’s more than belief. I know they are telling the truth.” Again there was a rueful expression on her face. “Once upon a time, I had Potential. It’s too bad I thought I could use Russell to forget.”

The plate landed on table and rattled.

Judy smiled weakly. “You know the irony of this? I was getting ready to leave him anyhow. He’s been cheating. The divorce papers arrived this, well, yesterday, morning. I was just trying to decide whether to go through with it or not.”

The first friend she’d ever made when she’d moved in this small town took her hands in his, and smiled the bright, sweet smile she remembered. “He was never good enough for you, Judy.”

LeRoy, her brother in all ways, but blood, hugged them both. Taking a deep breath, she turned her attention to the tall black man. “There’s something you should also know about Mom, and why she originally took me in all those years ago.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Daytime, while it had some inconveniences as far as subtlety was concerned, also was a great time to do some basic investigative work. The house was located near Lima’s State University campus. This location made a great deal of sense to the Slayers, because of its access to the campus, which meant parties and students who weren’t always as alert to their situation as they ought to be. Plus, it was far enough from the cemetery and the hospital to appear innocuous. And while vamps needed to feed, that didn’t mean daily. A savvy vampire and its minions could tuck themselves away like this and remain mostly undiscovered as long as they were smart about it. A missing student here, a neighbor with a heart attack there and snacks of a voluntary nature if they convinced the local goths to play along... Well, a vampire could make a “living,” in Lima, it seemed.

“Suck house,” Quinn confirmed as they watched a young woman totter out of the house as if she were a little drunk. “They’ve got a suck house in our town,” she repeated with disgust and disbelief. The slayers had paired off for their observation, working their way around the house through the modest forest cover behind and around the location; one couple to a side. Not that, given the random vamp junky they had to really be all that subtle. 

“It’s a nice neighborhood otherwise. It’d be a good base if its paid for.” Quinn glanced at the other blonde and cocked a brow, then after thinking on it, considered. 

“If we can get it cleaned out and if they haven’t defiled it too much, it might be saved. But you know how some of those houses can get.” They both did. It was not uncommon to find sigils and other not-so-right magical influences protecting or infesting the house. It depended on the age and knowledge of the invaders and was sometimes the work of a team of mages to clear things out or sometimes the whole thing had to be declared a loss and burned to the ground.

I wonder if they can feel us?” Brittany pondered as she worked on sharpening a stake, her legs hooked underneath a lower limb for stabilization, while she sat on a higher, thicker one. Quinn was similarly positioned, though her hands were less busy since she was holding their communication device. They were ensconced in a tree; far enough to be unobservable to the general population, but close enough that they could see.

“Maybe, but these vamps are arrogant. They’ll ignore any hinky feelings in favor of the free happy meals that are just walking in for the taking.”

A burst of static and clicks caught Quinns attention. She lifted the walky-talky so she and Brittany could hear and respond. Santana reported, “Nineties Goth Girl is heading toward her sixteenth birthday gift. Pretty car. Rachel’s worried about her driving, but I think she’ll be alright. She’s got marks on wrists and ankles. She’s been here before.”

“I almost feel sorry for what is going to happen to her later, but girl shouldn't’ have been playing with the monsters in the first place.”

“Rachel reminds us there’s always reasons that girls like that take a hit. Bad home life or school bullying. She’s got empathy or some shit like that. Ow!”

Quinn grinned despite herself. She could picture Rachel’s response to Santana’s sarcasm in her head. “Do we intervene?”

“We could use some numbers and inside information. Rachel’s says let her go. She’s just in a bad situation and will have it tough enough when she’s going through withdrawal after we clean things out. We’re gonna wait and see if someone better comes along and make a grab.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

After what she was coming to think of as the “great revelation,” Judy, Hiram and LeRoy had discussed, at length the pros and cons of even informing her retired watcher about the turn of events. Judy’s sense of humor revived to life when Hiram pointed out, “Oh my goodness, they’re cousins. Admittedly, not by blood, but still this will surely put an, ahem, kink into their lives.” 

LeRoy grinned, “As if they don’t have enough as it is.” He had then pointed at his sister, “I hope you’re not in denial, sis, but our daughters and their friends are so much more than just teammates.”

Judy had stared at them for a few moments and then the giggles had started as she imagined that conversation. When she could catch her breath she said, “Well, it’s kind of hard to miss, though I do know the kids are trying. I’m not going to judge them though. I’m not my husband. My daughter is a slayer and I know what that means or at least, what it used to mean; a very short life, lived alone. But my little girl seems to have gotten luckier than that. How can I deny her any happiness given what she must face. That said, I realize this answers our question as to whether we ought to tell Mom or not. We must, because I know she can help and I know she won’t let the old Council get their hooks into our daughters, whether she helps us otherwise or not. Besides, I’m tired of my daughters only knowing Russell’s side of the family. Quinn and Franny deserve to get to know her. I only hope she wants to see them.”

“Of course she will, Judy. And Rachel will love having a new, or shall I say old, kissing cousin.”

The laughter started again. In the end, they agreed that it might be in the best interest of Quinn and Rachel to know that they had another something in common.

\-----BTVS multi-----

People who did not know Rachel was a slayer always, always thought of her as the nice one; aside from Brittany. They also tended to underestimate her because of her height. She was, of course, genuinely kind and often nice, but when it came to slaying, she was also all business and did what needed to be done.

They ended up grabbing the person who appeared to be the human House servant. Every suck house had at least one. They were Maitre D's of sorts and were usually the ones who took care of getting essentials needed to maintain their human ‘livestock’. Food, drinks, bandages, etc. It turned out to be a relatively short interview. Mostly because Rachel was all smiles while Brittany and Santana held the man over a bridge railing and Quinn looked on with her trademark ice cold HBIC glare. It didn’t help that Rachel pointed out, “It would be quicker and better for you if we just let you go. Your keepers will eventually get tired of maintaining the facade. Then they will suck you dry, and turn on the rest of the town. So you see, we really are just hurrying things along, and getting rid of them first.”

Brittany and Santana, both experts at holding people without letting them actually fall, let the man drop a little. He screamed, much like Kurt would when he’s older. Laughing, they let him drop a little more. The scream was louder this time, as he had a very good view of the bottom under the bridge now. “NO, PLEASE! Stop! Please!”

Rachel’s smile brightened. “So, are we ready to talk now?”

They set the man free, of course, but only after making sure that he had no money and no phone. They bought him a ticket and put him on a one-stop express bus out of town. Quinn informed him if he ever returned to Lima, they would not as lenient.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Judy never thought she would say these these words or be at this particular doorstep again. She didn’t think she’d have the right, but LeRoy had insisted that first contact had to be more than by phone and that they take Franny with them. “Hi Mom.”

She wasn’t sure what to expect. Judy had always been very careful about her strength, which while not that of a slayer was more than average, and that had led to most people considering her distant and, ofttimes, even uncaring. It also led to her thinking others did not want to touch her back. Rationally she knew that was mirroring her issues onto someone else and an aspect of being under the influence of Russell’s non-touchy-feely presence in her life. She never said she was rational.

But she fully expected that Mom's Berry would slam the door shut. It would be no less than she deserved.

Momma Berry was a tall woman, built strong, but at the same time with a softness in her face which belied that strength to those who did not know her. Shock and hope graced her face. “Judy?” Her gaze flickered from the tall blonde to the little girl beside her, “And...”

“This is my eldest daughter...”

“Hi, my name is Estelle Francis Fabray.” Franny suddenly piped up, cutting her off. She hadn’t said much since her little sister grew up right before her eyes, but her mom had called this lady ‘Mom’, and she knew that meant that this was her grandmother. And she felt the sudden need to introduce herself. Her daddy didn’t like her first name, but she loved it, because her Mommy said that she was named after someone very special, and she introduced herself with it whenever she could.

“Oh!” Estelle Westland Berry exhaled in pleased surprised. She glanced at her son and his husband, through the screen door. “I imagine this is your doing, bringing them here?”

LeRoy didn’t even bother not to be at ease. “Partly, Mom. Judy has some things that need saying.”

“Hey!”

“Well, all of us do. We need to talk to you about Rachel and Quinn.”

“Quinn?”

“My other daughter. Lucy Quinn, my youngest. There was an event. She’s...”

“They’re slayers, Mom,” Hiram said bluntly. “And they need your help.”

Even as the screen door swung open, Estelle was saying, “First of all, that is impossible. And second of all, how do you, LeRoy and Hiram, know what a slayer is?”

“Because their Watcher, Noah, told us.”

Estelle was quiet for a long moment. Being inseparable from the day they first met at Temple, she knew Noah Puckerman like she knew her granddaughter. “I see. Well don’t just stand out there. You apparently have a story to tell me and I want to hug my granddaughter.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

Noah still hadn’t made it to the Lima Bean, the very new and shiny and popular coffee house, but Santana had managed to snag one of the soft-seat booths. The booth had a circular table with a U-shaped seat that swept around it. The slayers filled the booth, with a space reserved for their Watcher whenever he managed to show up from wherever he had gone. 

Empty sandwich wrappers, leftover chips and cooling drinks were set on the table, situated around the notes and map that Rachel had taken time to create while they were there. The map was based on the description provided by the Human Servant, and the notes detailed salient points, including the dismaying number of vampires who actually occupied that house.

“I thought Lima was supposed to be easy,” Santana said. “Not that it won’t be, but there shouldn’t be near this many...”

“Well, considering the population of Lima...”

“But no Hellmouth...”

“Well, ‘Active’ Hellmouth, but that may be an assumption. We know that Sunnydale is definitely active and we know what our friends were told about other Hellmouths, but honestly, given the Watchers of the time, should we believe the deduction that less activity meant no results at all? I think not.”

“But this is Lima.”

“A quiet, podunk, perfect breeding ground, with a mostly satisfied population that sees only what it wants to see. Consider our High School experience and compare it to what we know of the descriptions other schools from our slayer sisters. Compared to normal schools, our school had a population that was oblivious to non-trivial events unless it was deemed gossip-worthy. It was occupied by strange teachers and students with weird habits, which I bet we could assess correctly now, and there was a basic lack of classroom management on the best of days. Add in the odd occurrences, which were never properly addressed by the administration or were simply covered up and we have a school under the influence. It might not be bad as having needing an obituary section in the school paper, but such blatant abuse of the student population should not be able to go so overlooked.

“Holy crap,” muttered Quinn as realization struck. “Principal Figgins wasn’t human.”

“Indeed. He was also wrong about Tina, which is instructional. Of course, she wasn’t vampire, she was fairy; Sidhe if you want to be particular about it.” This time it was Santana who looked startled, but Brittany just smiled while Rachel continued, “But she was a very nice sidhe, which we all know. But I digress. You will note the common features to other schools that were near Hellmouths. Add to it that Lima is far enough away from the actual portal to be overlooked, yet big enough that oddities can go unnoticed for a bit, and you’ve got a situation. It does make me wonder what the cities around Sunnydale might be hiding, but that’s a discussion to hold when we make contact with them later.”

“Well, when you put it like that, I guess you’re right. Inactive doesn’t mean inert.”

“Correct. One might compare the influence to be like breathing, happening regardless of events unless otherwise stopped. A more positive aspect of this new knowledge, is that awareness of activities in and around an area where a Hellmouth is reported to be located, could give an indication of which one would go active next.”

“Which would explain the critters and the oblivious population.”

“Sheep,” Brittany added, which caused the other women to raise their brows at her. She wasn’t exactly known for calling people names. The taller blonde, however, wasn’t looking at them. She was examining the cup in her hand and slowly peeling away the heat cover. “Coach would call them sheep.”

“Coach Sylvester,” Rachel repeated and leaned back. “Wow.”

“What do you think she’d say if she knew what we were?”

“I hesitate to even speculate, but weirdly, I think she’d love it.”

Quinn added, “But if we’d told her then, she’d would have made us run a kazillian laps for not changing sooner so she could win Nationals. Even if we were already graduates.”

Santana disagreed. “No. She’d just twist out some snarky names and make us run an impossible routine to scare the newbies into thinking they’d have to work harder and better to even qualify for her respect. And we’d do it too, because she’s Coach.”

“Do you think Schue ever figured out she was putting him on about the Master Cleanse?”

“I know, right. We’re athletes for fucks sake. And he thinks she’s making us live on salads alone? Please. We burned calories just waking up and that was before we changed. But it did make for fun lunches. I mean the way he looked at us, like we were starving and he could do nothing about it except moan on our behalf.”

“Aunt Sue was a great coach,” Brittany said as she flung the wrapper down on the table. “I miss her.”

“Coach was your Aunt?! I mean ...” Quinn blinked. Santana blinked. Rachel didn’t blink.

“How... what?” Santana blurted. “That’s... it’s... since when, Brittany.”

“Umm, since always? I thought you all knew. Didn’t I tell you?”

Silence reigned around the table for a bit as individuals digested the idea of their coach as a relative. 

Rachel fiddled with her pen and wrote a few notations down. She spoke first. “We should tell her.”

“I’m … wait.. say what now?” Quinn stared at Rachel, but Brittany nodded. Santana leaned back, folded her arms and furrowed her brow as if in thought.

“We should tell Coach. We at least owe it to her to let her know about the Hellmouth and she’s...” Her gaze flickered to Brittany, who nodded, “The woman might have had issues on a good day, and that may speak to the the long-term influence of the hellmouth on a strong minded individual, but she had the skills to put a field Watcher to shame. Considering how stand-up she was regarding your training as Cheerios, I think she might have known, or at least suspected that something was off with the school, though she might not have known exactly what. We know she isn’t one of the sheep.” Rachel began to warm to her topic. “We know she was in some type of special services. She had to go insane somewhere, and it wasn’t here. If things aren’t too different in this place and time, we know that she has already been working the college scene for trophies and is looking for change about now. We could snag her before she even gets tagged by McKinley.

“We know we are sorely lacking in personnel to begin with; not the least of which, she’s adaptable and savvy. If nothing else, we could then make sure that.... Aunt Jean... gets taken care of, the way Coach would like. We’ll have resources that she doesn’t have, won’t have. Dawn said they’ve already cracked some of the old council’s stashes, so we’ll have access to funding. We can pay Coach Sylvester... our... Aunt Sue... so she can do something she basically was doing with the Cheerios for years. Hell, given the opportunity to train a bunch of impressionable, super powered young women in hand to hand combat and life and death situations; we all know she’d probably do it for free.”

“And Noah and Alice...”

“They’re clan, as well as part of our team. I’m simply saying we should invite her to our team, like Andy brought in Lily and Doug. The more the merrier and the better. We don’t have all our sisters any more and you know survival in our field of expertise is a numbers game sometimes. With Sue on our team we will at least add a good percentage our chances of success in our endeavors. We already know she’s a great strategist, even if she is quirky in delivery. And if she’s the type that has to have trophies on the wall, well, there’s no reason we can’t pursue something to shine in a case. She never said cheerleading was her only god. She said she loved winners.”

Another bout of stunned silence rose around them and settled before Santana uncrossed her arms. She picked up her cup and finished it off in one long chug, before thumping the cup down. “We tell Coach. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Quinn echoed, followed by a beaming Brittany and a satisfied Rachel.

“Well, since that is resolved, let’s take a look at the map again. Maybe we can have the cleaning planned out by the time Noah gets back from wherever he is.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

The hardware stores of Lima were a bit emptier by the time Noah was done with his shopping spree. He might not be able to easily acquire some types of armament, but he and the slayers had learned the value of do-it-yourself when it came to weaponry. It helped that the Human Servant’s supply of cash had been generous. It also helped that he could spread the wealth, and shop at other stores, including the Hobby-Lobby, which had clear crystal balls; always useful. He also made a stop at a grocery store. The supplies the girls purchased at the All-Mart were good for a night or two, but he knew slayers and they operated best when they didn’t have to worry about food, even subconsciously. It never hurt for them to stock up when they could.

By the time he was finished, he had the raw elements to create some very interesting weapons; splinter shatter bombs, stake flingers, holy water mini-bombs; among other things. He had also acquired two well balanced machetes, a quality buck-knife and a super-soaker, which he’d filled with holy-water after stopping at a chapel. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start from a point of zero. They might not use it all, given that the house probably had human visitors, and that meant exercising some caution, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t improvise.

Feeling a bit more like a Watcher again, Puck finally made his way to the Lima Bean.

\-----BTVS multi-----


	13. Chapter 13

BTVS: In League Pt 13

\-----BTVS multi-----

It wasn’t actually hard to remember where the scythe was, as that memory was nearly etched into Buffy’s soul. The difficulty lay in deciding whether now was the time to get the sacred object or to bother the Guardian who waited. After all, technically, things were not end-of-the-worldish. On the other hand, it was the slayer’s inheritance and it wasn’t like they had a bunch of slayers running around to keep the world and its people safe. Maybe she could go speak to the Guardian regardless. From what Buffy could tell from the last time they met, the woman had been alone for a very long time. Since they knew about her, there was no real reason for her to stay alone. She might like some company. Or at the very least, a chance for some quality conversation.

The topic was not something she brought up with Giles just yet and a part of Buffy wondered if she ought also just wait for Faith so they both could go. Then again, there was a simpler issue.

She wasn’t entirely sure the Guardian was in the same place anymore anyhow. After all, the whole town and its outlying areas had changed.

“You look as if you’re thinking very hard.”

Buffy actually jerked forward, startled. She never got startled. She turned, gaping, to look at the culprit. Then shook herself a little. “Hello Doctor.”

“Donna. Simply call me Donna. My … well, I don’t know if I’d call him my maker or my predecessor, whatever, he’s the Doctor. I am Doctor Donna, who was predicted to come into existence by the Ood, who sing to the Universe, but beyond that, I’ve found that I’d much rather be just Donna, best temp in Chiswick.”

Buffy cocked her head a moment and considered. She knew some of this, of course. Bonds had been forged after all, but she found this moment kind of charming, if a touch off-kilter. She also understood where Donna was coming from, probably better than any of the others. She gave the redhead a wicked smirk. “But you make such a sexy Doctor Donna. Every time I say it, I think of full body exams.”

“Kinky, and yet, such lovely mental images.”

“I thought so, but don’t tell my Mom.”

Donna scoffed. “Of course not. She already knows.”

Buffy’s smile widened slowly. “Donna, do you feel like going for a drive with me? I have something to do, but I don’t think I want to go alone. Besides, you might like her.”

“I’m sure I shall.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

It helped that certain landmarks remained, if not exactly the same, similar enough in nature for Buffy to make an educated guess. Donna didn’t mind her driving, but then, Buffy had improved exponentially over the years and had learned to compensate for her overcompensation. It was a nice outing, but it took a good hour to track down the location of the temple. The place had never been specifically obvious originally and, now that Buffy thought about it, she still found it kind of odd that it existed in the Americas at all.

That said, Donna and Buffy entered the ancient place together, careful of the layered and still effective security features. No one wanted an arrow in the eye or anywhere else for that matter. It helped that Buffy had been there before. Some memories, distant as they might be, stuck with a person.

It probably should not have been a surprise, when they finally made it to the central room, to find the Guardian waiting for them. “You came!”

The Guardian, a tallish woman with long dark hair and wearing robes of authority, smiled at them warmly. “I almost thought you’d opt not to. After all, things are a bit...timey-wimey, I believe is the preferred term?”

Donna grinned widely. “It’s certainly one I’ve heard before.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Time-Lady.”

“And you, Guardian. I say, according to the memories I have, shoddy as they are given they aren’t really mine...”

“Pish! They’re as much yours as his. Consider them a gift, as we both know that he couldn’t just hand out cigars.”

“Hah!” Donna pointed at the Guardian with her thumb, “I like her very much. You were right.”

Buffy smiled. “I thought you might. Guardian, it’s good to see you, though you’ve kind of surprised me. I guess you’re a bit like Whistler then?”

“I am nothing like him. However, if you mean, did I find myself moved from the Fields of the Afterlife, to now, well, yes. I’m much like you, I think.”

Buffy grimaced and then, because she could, stepped forward and gripped the Guardian in a hug. “I intend to keep you alive this time.”

“Again, Pish. It was my time last time and now things are different. I’ve been around a very long time, but that’s just from one perspective.”

“Speaking of which, could we talk? I have some questions I want to ask and, I’d like to get your opinion on a couple of things.”

The guardian smiled and waved them both forward, “Come with me.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

“Well, now she was very charming,” Donna said as they left the temple. 

“And informative,” Buffy nodded. “Thanks for coming with.”

“It was my pleasure. So are you going to go after the scythe?”

“Have to find it first. Everything has been switched around, but at least we know that it still exists and it’s in range of Sunnydale.”

“If I knew the energy signature, I could work on it.”

“Willow might know, but then again, she might do a hand-wavium thing and lo, there it is.”

Donna laughed. “She is powerful, but then, so are you. I’d ask if you were sure you needed it, but given some of the topics discussed with the Guardian, I say we do. Inevitably, as there is power, there are those that seek it.”

“Yeah. That’s kind of what I’m worried about. So, going home?”

“I promised Helen I’d look in on Joyce while we were out. Something about artifacts in the gallery?”

“Oh yeah. The mask. Yeah, that’s kind of important.”

“We’ll take care of it.”

Buffy smiled and laid an impulsive kiss on Donna’s cheek. “Thanks. For everything.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

It was early for a patrol, but Buffy didn’t feel like heading home yet. One of the boons and hazards of being a slayer was that ever present energy that needed sluicing off. As a student it made for restless classroom experiences and as an adult, with more options, it made for an adventurous life. Buffy had grown to like her life, but it had been a long journey of personal recovery and self-discovery to find that peaceful place inside about her slayerdom. 

Now she owned being the Alpha Slayer, the Queen and certainly, she could be still for long periods of time without feeling too antsy about it, but still, she needed a distraction and she kind of felt the urge to go and get to know the new Sunnydale.

So she left to “patrol,” though really, it was more to wander about and see what was what. Somehow, she was not quite sure how and previous to her exit, she had acquired a toolbelt. 

Under ordinary circumstances it was hard to be fashionable in a toolbelt. But this one was special. She had needed something to do with her hands, and in a spur of the moment impulse, built a clank to solve the problem. Oddly, she didn’t quite remember building the tiny crafting clank, but she remembered feeling very creative and when everything was done, she knew her small creation was hers because of the scrolly B; much like the one that had been on her manicurist clank, which was now housed itself on the nightstand in her room. She was hesitant to guess what it did with its time off. The new clank had, once it awakened into being, created the belt with tools, making them tinier and more portable than she would have believed possible; yet she knew that they would also fit her hands. It also added useful gadgets and options, including a very nifty stake holster, with a nice, pointy new stake. Then, as if it was the most normal thing, it fit itself into her belt, transforming into a thick, oddly steampunk buckle. She realized she would have loved that buckle, even if she didn’t know that she had clank at her beck and call.

Dressed to impress in her designer jacket, blouse and jeans, yet also keeping it real with steel-toed boots and that nifty new belt, she felt a bit like Batman, only better dressed and much more stealthy. 

\-----BTVS multi-----

It took awhile for Buffy to really glean what was really very different. It wasn’t the quaintness. It wasn’t layout of the town. It wasn’t the sounds or the sights or the smells. Except, of course, that really, absolutely was, since everything was so different. She was having a hard time finding the usual haunts, the cemeteries, the bars, the hospital, the schools. The signs helped, but there weren’t any new maps yet and smartphones like she was used to weren’t invented yet. But she did enjoy the walking and getting semi-lost gave her something to do. But the difference she felt was more than the appearances. It was hard for her to pick a single word, except something along the lines of attention. 

Then she realized that really was the difference. As she walked, she got acknowledgment. A Jaegar with a badge and a baton, knocked his baton to his hat and smiled a giant tooth-filled smile, “Slayer.” Then he walked on, whistling and working. A woman, wearing a modernized full-length skirt dashed forward with a basket in her arms, slowed down long enough to say, “Slayer! Good evening!” Then she ran past Buffy on her errand. Two teens Buffy recognized from school strolled, hand in hand, and they actually nodded at her. 

It shouldn’t have taken her aback as much as it did, since, she was technically, much older than her appearance. At least the kids didn’t call her by name, but being back in Sunnydale brought memories and old habits to the fore. She was trying to get past the habits, as she knew they weren’t all that conducive to survival, but she absolutely remembered the strangeness she felt when she first got to the small city. One of the first things she noticed was how few people actually seemed to notice her, especially her fellow students.

And now, it seemed like every few blocks, someone took a moment specifically to greet her. 

So odd. So much for the supposed secrecy of being a Slayer.

But being acknowledged on home-ground was very cool, too.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Buffy eventually found one of the older cemeteries. It was a little, okay a lot, to the left of its previous location, but she recognized the iron gate and the giant angel statue with the hands over its eyes. She also felt a bit of a vibe about the place, which is what caused her to stop in the first place. 

So now she stood in front of a suspect grave, freshly dug and covered, waiting with a happy kind of anticipation. It had been a while since she’d gotten her hands dirty, a while since she’d taken down a fledgeling, a while since she’d powered up a giant flashlight with an excessive amount of lumens, causing an incendiary flash to scour the ground, leaving black scorch marks behind light-frosted tombstones.

The vampire dust mixed with the ash that used to be grass and flowers and settled into the disturbed and empty grave.

Buffy, wide eyed and startled, glanced at the tube that no longer had any lamp attached to it, and then at the decimation before her. “Oops.”

She said it again when she stealthed her way out of cemetery and caught sight of a semi-dismantled vehicle, parted onto the blacktop beneath it. 

She realized she’d lost time again and hoped that, first, this mental disappearing act was temporary and second, that whomever owned that car, wasn’t too mad. She spent a moment memorizing the plate number, so she could attempt to send money to the owner to make up for it; anonymously. Then she walked like a normal person in the opposite direction until she knew she was far enough away to pick up the pace. 

Well, obviously this knack thing was going to add a bit of a learning curve.

\-----BTVS multi-----

The sound of construction caught Buffy’s attention when she finally found the high school. They were obviously working well into the evening and probably would continue into the night. While the damage being repaired wasn’t necessarily from this particular Halloween, she realized this was a common occurrence in her original timeline and wondered why she’d never stopped by before; especially since she had that key that Giles had acquired for her. Curious, she decided to go and take a look.

She didn’t need the key. The main doors swung open as she approached and entered. She nodded at the little rust-brown creature in workman’s clothes, who held the door for her. She still didn’t know what they were called, but Giles had said they were harmless as well as being very good at construction and sundry other details. The hallways of the school were all well lit, the fluorescent light whiting everything out a touch. She inhaled, taking in scents she hadn’t experienced in awhile; school, locker smells, and fresh sawdust. She smiled despite herself as she paced the familiar path toward the library. She glanced at open classrooms, spotting more people, not all of them little and quick, in hard hats, working away. She figured the school really would be ship-shape by Monday. 

She didn’t expect to actually encounter anyone in the library. It was a pre-conditioned habit from being in Sunnydale that carried her forward, even as she was taking in the condition of the library; books strewn about, broken tables, the markings on the floor which sealed the hell-mouth revealed. The rug lay rolled up by one of the few remaining upright tables. She looked at her the man who had pretty much raised her through her young adulthood. Sure his horns were showing and his eyes had gone back to yellow, but he was still the Dad of her heart. It might be kinky at points, because what was life without a little zing, but it was what it was. “Hey Giles. What’s the what?” 

She sat on the unbroken table, letting her legs swing, deliberately popping her gum. 

He twitched like he could really use his glasses at that moment. She smiled. 

He glanced down at the seal. “I am contemplating opening it.”

“Hmm. You probably have a good reason. Care to share with the class?”

“I have several. The first of which is that there is now a portal under our new home. It is not a hellmouth, exactly...”

“Wait. What?”

“There is a portal under the new castle. It’s a dungeon portal. That would be the best way to describe it.” He sighed and then moved to half-sit beside her, leaning against the table. “My dungeon. Or maybe Agatha’s. Apparently there is a bit of quandary as to whom has rightful claim and the local inhabitants want to know to whom they must swear fealty . Agatha is investigating that, since she has a certain familiarity with the topic of special pocket dimension dungeons under castles.”

“And you’re not opposed to Agatha being in charge on that one, because of the whole already got a Lordship thing going in England, which you should have totally told us about way earlier. Might have earned you some respect.” Buffy said teased. He snorted a light laugh of disbelief, but they both smiled at each other. Then she said, considering that she sensed there was something he wasn’t telling her, yet. “I guess we trust Agatha to it and she’ll pull us in for consult or slayage if she needs us. Second reason?”

“Taking into consideration events of our future-past, it seems to me it would be wise to be more proactive in protecting ourselves from that which would utilize this particular portal for their own purposes.” He nodded at the hellmouth.

“You want to booby-trap it,” Buffy interpreted.

“Absolutely. Incendiary devices, small bombs, magical reinforcement, anything and everything.” He exhaled, shaking his head and then tapped the floor sharply with his foot. “I simply do not want a repeat of what happened and, we are fortunate in that we technically have the manpower...”

“Oh hey, I’m not arguing. I’m just wondering how you intend to get down there and, if you don’t mind me pointing this out, whether our opening the hellmouth would even cause it to open in the same place.”

He stared at her. Then he managed, “And you say this because,”

“I remember the Bad sisters of H.I.J.K. and how they summoned a giant tentacle beasty. Supposed to end the world, but looking back on it, the thing was pretty puny, considering all we had to do was chop off a few heads and arms and pummel it back into its dimension. And, I know your memory is as good as mine, but seems to me that I got a few good looks in when we were battling, and it sure looked like a jungle scene rather than rocky craggy holes in the ground. Also, I didn’t see any sign of the tentacle monster that came out the first time, with the Master.”

“Excuse me,” Giles said politely, eyes glowing dangerously. The horns on his head lengthened and thickened dangerously as his skin started shading more to the red. He walked to one of the tables that was only half-broken and then dropped his fist on it, hard. The table crushed and crumbled under the weight of the blow.

“Feel better?” the Slayer asked, reminding herself mentally to next time bring gum again. It had been cool to be able to pop it at just the right moments. Sometimes pushing Giles’ buttons was fun. 

His next exhale was a bit more growly than usual, but he did return to where he had been half-sitting on the table, beside Buffy. His skin color returned to normal, but his horns remained dangerously pointed. The Slayer made a mental note that maybe it was good to be a little shorter than Giles in this case. A wild swing with those things might put an eye out. He glowered at the hellmouth as he replied. “Not really. But you have made a very valid point. One that we probably need to discuss as a Council.”

“Do we really want to call ourselves a Council?” Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Isn’t one of those enough?”

“And what would you suggest?” Giles asked, amusement shading his tone.

“Just about anything else.” Buffy shrugged. “But, yeah, given our current record with random portals we probably better do some consulting before we get too excited about things.” She glanced around the library. “So, need some help cleaning up? I know they got a work crew here, but library fixin’ is kind of traditional with us. We could make it an old-school scooby effort and get some book sorting done and some not-really-a-council brain power going. I bet Willow has missed it and Xander would find it a hoot.”

“I’ll order the pizza. You make the call.”

\-----BTVS multi-----


	14. Chapter 14

BTVS: In League Pt.14

\-----Buffy multi-----

As Brittany had predicted to herself, Rachel revisited the topic of virginity, but not from the first angle of sexual accessibility. It was from the point that Brittany had come to think of as most important; the markings. Which, interpreted, meant the contracts. Something to which, if one understood the deep depth of Rachel’s thinking, their pack Alpha was trying to draw their attention. But it was also something not necessarily to be brought up when newbies might potentially hear, thus the original topic.

It was a thing. Noah had a reason, not just for his stories of sexapades, why he had those encounters; as did any slayer or any watcher who took on a mark of contract for the sake of the council and the safety of the world. These marks were both like and not like the notorious Eyghon mark that Mr. Giles originally carried. But it was no shock that a Slayer or a Watcher or a Mage would give their all for their world, their companions, their loved ones; which sometimes was the other contract party. It wasn’t a terrible thing, not always a burden and more often a blessing. The contracts were more often simple things like protection of the clan or godparent of the child, which bound them to the contractee to their world rather than to their old plane of existence. The marks were also usually mixed with sigils tattooed or painted on the body; those magical protections and accessible spells often meant life or death. But they were sometimes just tattoos, meant to disguise.

When they gathered a block away from their intended clean-out, Rachel broached the topic again. This time from a different angle. “I’ve been thinking about how to get the humans out, since that has been our one greatest worry.” They all knew they weren’t talking about the servants in particular, but about the innocents who had been drawn into the web of the vampires. She leaned against the passenger-side of their newly acquired SUV, care of the human-servant who was no longer in town.

“You mean, your one greatest worry.” Santana corrected. She stood by Rachel, also leaning, but with her arms folded, while Quinn and Brittany faced them. Noah was making a last minute scan of the area and setting up for his part of the plan. “I can say in all honesty, three things would happen if we don’t have this discussion. First, I would be happy. Second, we go in and they’ll scatter like roaches and race for the front door.”

“Or the back,” added Quinn.

“Third, they get caught in the crossfire, which would not be our fault, as they should not be there in the first place.”

“Really, Santana?” Rachel’s brow-fu was not as strong as Quinn’s, but it had its moments.  
Santana refused to look any sort of guilty, however, so the shorter brunette sighed and continued. “Look, regardless of what we know about human nature, it makes sense to minimize the targets we have to avoid. Just from a practical standpoint, correct?”

Santana shrugged, but they all knew the answer.

“So we have the options we talked about previously.” She began enumerating with her fingers. “We go in cold and hope shock and awe works enough to get them out of the house before someone gets hurt. We pair up and two of us go in; one set to lead the humans out, carried bodily, if necessary. This may actually be a great secondary strategy anyhow, given what we know about the house set up. But finally, our third option, which we have been debating: we somehow draw them out. And that’s what I want to address. My thought is this, Mr. Schue’s contract. Do you think it would still be in effect, given our presence in this time and place and the altered circumstances that must inevitably surround it? And Brittany, Santana, how much would you love to play cop strip-o-gram today? That is, if we manage it.”

She laid it out there like a verbal ace of spades on top of a full house of spades.

Brittany grinned suddenly and Santana laughed, slapping Rachel’s shoulder. “I knew there was a reason we kept you.”

Quinn nodded, her eyes gleaming. “We can always try it out. And, even if part of the idea doesn’t work, the strip-o-gram would, I think. We can always go accapella.”

“Nice.” Santana said. “I’m feeling this.”

“We should test it out,” Brittany clapped her hands tightly and did a little giddy bounce.

“Sure, something simple, but catchy and short.” Quinn agreed.

“Well,” Santana led, looking pointedly at Rachel.

The brunette’s laugh was a puff of air, and she said, “I have a song.”

It was as simple as that. A flicker of magic, a ring of sound, like someone had turned on a radio somewhere at just the right time to catch the opening swell of a tune. They grinned at widely at each other.

No one knew what Mr. Schue had promised Brad. In fact, it wasn’t until after they had become slayers that any of the original glee class, at least those in the know, had understood what had to have happened. What they did know is that, somehow, Mr. Schue had enabled a bit of permanent magic for those original singers and a few other select people who joined their club later. No matter where, no matter when, no matter what, if one of them needed a song, they could call it up, summon it without more than a whisper of a choice. Sure, they learned to play their own instruments, they learned to sing their own songs, but if they needed back up? It was always there.

This was the kind of contract that saved clubs, saved worlds. This was the kind of contract that was sometimes found in the blood and bone of those who made them. This was the kind of contract that was fun.

Well, at least for the former members of New Directions. No one was really sure about Mr. Schue. He never said anything. He never seemed as if he dreaded the future either. He loved glee club, so he did what he felt he had to get it started and keep it going in the face of challenges. It seemed that whatever it was he agreed to wasn’t something he regretted or felt bad about. And, apparently, in the face of things, the contract was still in effect. Perpetuity was such a very long time and covered a great many details.

\-----BTVS multi-----

“They’re doing what, right now?” Estelle’s query perhaps pitched a little higher than normal. She glanced first at the clock, then out the nearest window. Sunlight still gleamed, but the sunset would be upon them soon enough.

Leroy, cellphone still in his palm, said, “They’re getting ready to go in. Rachel wasn’t specific, but she mentioned something called a suck-house?”

Estelle hissed through her teeth. “In Lima?”

“Apparently so. What’s a Suck-house? It sounds dirty.” Hiram commented.

“Oh, it is,” Estelle ground out. Then she started toward her basement. “How well armed are the girls?”

Leroy offered her a not quite blank look and a shrug. “They said Noah was getting what supplies he could.”

“And that would be?”

Hiram cleared his throat and glanced at his husband, “Well, he didn’t say exactly. We gave them some money for clothes and food.”

Estelle paused at the top of the steps and turned to look at her sons in consternation. “So, they are essentially going in with their bare hands?”

“Mom, we don’t know. We don’t...”

She raised her hand to stop their worried dialog. “I know. I’m sorry. I just... I’m sure they’ve acquired basic equipment. Any good slayer will know how to make their own tools on the fly, but we can do more for them.” She started back down the steps, tossing back a, “Well come on, then. Since we don’t know when they plan on starting, we had better hurry. I have no doubt that they will plan on using what daylight is left.”

A few minutes later and a whole new aspect of Estelle was revealed to her sons and daughter.

Leroy and Hiram gawped, while Judy gaped. No one expected a veritable armory in the basement. No one expected secret compartments and walls either. “Wow,” husked Judy. “You kept it all and then some.”

“Of course I did. As if I would let the Council get a hold of family belongings” Light from the cabinet reflected off of Estelle’s glasses and displayed the content to their view. “Now, there are two empty duffles over in the closet there.” She point. “Let’s get started.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

The doorbell rang, a tinkling sound that seemed wholly out of place for the nature of the house. A few moments later and a bleary-eyed and tousled half-dressed man blinked at the sight before him. It was obvious from his befuddled expression that he couldn’t decide whether to run or smile.

Two women stood before him, wearing skimpy navy blue outfits, skirt and top, a closed jacket with brass buttons and cop badges. Their caps were canted forward on their heads, and they wore mirror-surface sunglasses. They wore high heeled platform shoes. Their makeup was flawless, their nails long and sharp. Their teeth perfect in their smiles.

The blonde held a piece of paper in her hand. “Is Mr.” She held the note away from her as if she were a little farsighted, or the scrawl illegible. “Smith...available?”

“Who’s asking?”

The smaller brunette leaned forward and ran an index finger from collarbone to sternum before saying, “Strip-o-gram. We can’t go in. He’ll have to come out.”

The blonde smiled and jiggled a little, which did wonderful things to the man’s imagination, “But tell him he can bring friends if he wants. We don’t mind putting on a show.” The leer she offered was cute and stirring, prompting an impulsive nod of his head.

The man at the door cleared his throat and glanced away from them and then back into the house. “I’ll go see.” He started to turn, then looked back. “Wait here!” It was a definite demand, as if he were afraid they would disappear like apparitions.

Maybe a minute later, if that long, several people had crowded at the doorway. One man stepped forward, skinny, dark haired and dark eyed. “I am Mr. Smith,” he said with a subtle spanish accent. “We are ready for your show,” he leered.

Slayers were trained in tailoring their reactions, but these young women had been long time experts at it before becoming slayers. Brittany, who actually recognized the man in the door, smiled widely, innocently. “Hi! Okay.”

No one even blinked when a beat sounded from out of nowhere. What they did, however, was step forward out of instinct as the two women before them stepped away cocking their index fingers in a come-hither motion. They followed as if they were hypnotized, watching as the two women shimmied and gyrated slowly and sexily. Their dance matched the beat, the buttons popped in perfect time to the pulse of the swelling music.

Other people began drifting out the door, curious and turned on. The music picked up and so did the dance. The jackets slid off revealing the skimpiest of navy blue blouses. The man who had claimed to be Mr. Smith found himself half embraced as the jacket was used to pull him close. He didn’t expect the whisper from the tall blonde girl, “Tío Jorge, this house is going to get busted like now and you need to get away while you can. Take some friends with you. Oh, and Mami is going to want a word with you later about bad habits, because I am so telling.”

The jacket dropped to the ground behind the shocked man, forgotten, and the young woman danced away from him and toward her companion. Her lips graced the smaller brunette’s ear and he caught the nod. The girl lifted her sunglasses for just a moment and something about her eyes caught his breath, made him shiver and instantly decide he wasn’t going to watch any more of the dance. He looked around, noticing how captivated everyone else was. It was enough for him. He stepped out of the forefront of the crowd, letting an excited spectator take his place. He tapped the shoulder of cousin Ernesto. “It’s time.”

“But I’m watching the show!” That earned the cousin a slap on the back of the head. 

That was followed up by, “Okay, but when things go bad, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The girls kicked it up a notch, brushing up against each other, undoing the snaps of their skirts, throwing out bits and pieces of cloth and costume jewelry.

“How can this possibly go bad?”

“The chica blanca called me Tío. And, Ernie, look closely at her friend. Tell me she isn’t one of ours.”

The blouses were unbuttoned and the hats were gone. The two young women held batons in their hands; very pointy batons.

“Dios. It’s time.”

“Told you. Get Tony. He was supposed to have the supplies and our people ready.”

“Do we tell that girl who let us in?”

Jorge tisked. “Don’t know where she is. If you see her, I guess. She did get us inside, even if it was only for a day.”

They grinned at each other. This wasn’t their first house cleaning. That meant they did what they had to, find the one person who wouldn’t ask too many questions and then plan for their first and only visit to be memorable. They always protected their own, especially when it came to family. And Lima had plenty of family, which did mean, sometimes the unexpected relative with the same idea that no one knew about. Fun times. They had to give the girls props for style at least, but there were only two of them. They no doubt needed back up.

Cousin Ernesto nodded and they split away from each other to go prepare for war.

Behind all the people in the front yard and without notice otherwise, two other women and a strapping young man carrying sundry dangerous items slid into the open, empty entryway of the house.

\-----BTVS multi-----

“Go faster!” Estelle demanded.

“I am already going five miles above speed limit,” declared Hiram.

Suddenly he felt his foot pressed down. The vehicle seemed to leap ahead in speed. “Fine,” he huffed, “but if we get pulled over, it will only slow us down longer. It’s not like they’re far away. It’s Lima.”

“Every minute of sunshine counts, son. Every minute. Peel it.”

\-----BTVS multi-----

The sound of an SUV roaring down the street actually managed to be louder than the music that pulsed to the strip-o-gram beat. It was loud enough to draw attention away from the hypnotic shimmying and alert the audience that something large, black and metallic was barrelling its way towards them.

The spectators scattered like rats before the tiger as the SUV bounced up the sidewalk and part of the driveway, leaving skid marks in the grass as the brake was finally applied.

Doors were flung open as Judy and Leroy tumbled out, running toward the back. They were followed by a slower Estelle, while Hiram set the vehicle to park. “Should I leave it running?”

Estelle glanced at the open mouthed slayers. “Girls, you’re gathering flies. Supplies in the back.” She was pleased that she didn’t even have to say it twice. She turned back to look at her son-in-law. “Hiram, if you promise you’ll go faster if we need to chase something, you’re officially the driver. Leave the car running and stay here.”

“I’ll drive faster.”

“Excellent. Leroy, get the spell bag. Judy, you’re weapons master.”

“Yes mom!” came from the back, which was now wide open.

\-----BTVS multi-----

Jorge wielded the heavy pistol with the ease of someone who had handled such weapons all his life. In the other hand, he held a thick wooden knife, one he’d personally carved. The method was simple, shoot to slow down, stab to dust. It tended to work rather well with vampires, though less well with the other fearsome beasties. Those however, were not his current target. After alerting his crew, he slipped back into the house intending to start the work before those two girls had to even lift a finger.

He stepped into shadow and dust; lots and lots of dust. Ashes floated in the air, skipped along the ground at his feet. He was briefly startled as he heard a small explosion and saw a bright light from the door leading toward the kitchen. But it was the figure that caromed through that same doorway and off the wall beside him that caught his attention.

In a smooth, practiced motion Jorge fell into a crouch and stabbed Harvey, the vampire’s, chest with his wooden knife. Even more dust exploded around him as he quickly extracted the implement of change. One down and many more to go. He had a count in his head, which did not include the possible numbers in the basement. He and his people hadn’t had a chance to get down that far and he fully expected it to be dangerous. He heard a yelp and the sound of an explosion of air. More dust.

He looked behind himself at the young brunette dancer who looked like family. She held a crossbow in one hand, a stake in the other. A bandolier filled with vials and bolts crossed from shoulder to hip. “Tio, gonna make yourself useful or just be bait?”

He couldn’t help the grin. He lived for this kind of thing.

\-----BTVS mult-----

Ernesto had never seen anything like it. None of the hunters had. He watched as a team of women cut through the enemy with an artistry that could make a man weep. The sexy dance that he’d seen before was sweet, but the memory of watching these women leap and flip, use the walls as bounce points, slice and stab, would remain a treasure forever. And that was only with glimpses, because the truth was that these new cousins moved so fast sometimes he felt as if he were standing still, even though he too was fighting. For every punch he threw, every face he pummeled, every cut he made, one of them made four or five.

He had no way of knowing that they thought they were being slow and inefficient and they were highly aware that their new bodies, while fit, weren’t as trained. Yes, they managed feats, but there was a time they were better and faster.

The Hunters followed in the slayers’ wake, catching those baddies smart enough to run and dusting them with practiced professionalism. Ernesto might be a lawyer in “real” life in Cincinnati, but he was an experienced hand at dealing with the unfriendlies.

\-----BTVS multi-----

As operations went, it wasn’t pretty, but above the ground was technically smooth. Between the four slayers, Noah, the surprise back up of family, the upstairs and the ground floor were cleaned out within twenty minutes. Slower than planned, as for some reason the numbers of vampires were much higher than it should have been. Quinn speculated that the vamps had been watching the dance too, so obviously they’d all aggregated up top.

Rachel had to own that it might account for some of it, but the fact there were so many in their small town really concerned her.

They gathered in the kitchen. The one door to the basement was closed, with a chair hooked beneath the knob to keep it that way. Not that it would necessarily keep something from coming out if it really wanted to, but sometimes the simple methods were the best.

“Bad vibes,” Brittany said. “Getting rid of the overbites didn’t get rid of the feeling. I think whatever is down there is old.”

“Or has a powerful guardian,” agreed Noah.

“Which is why we should just throw a grenade down there and be done with it.” One of the hunters said.

“A grenade would be an adequate distraction, but it is unlikely that it would be a permanent one,” Rachel replied as she paced, her expression intense. “Given how Estelle’s spell of revelation bounced, I think there will be backlash. We’ve already had three serious injuries in this party,” she exhaled and glanced at Jorge, who smiled at her use of his word for the throwdown. From his perspective, it had all been great fun. He had heard of slayers. Any hunter worth their salt had heard of them, but it was understanding there was only ever one. To see four working at once... it was like watching art. That they all claimed to be family of his, well, there were too many emotions to sift beyond pride and the need to protect them, at the moment.

None of the hunters or slayers had walked away from the fight undamaged. The slayers had taken their lumps, like the champions they were, but the bloody scrapes were already healing. Jorge had an obvious shiner starting to bruise and a busted lip, but that was a small injury compared to Ernesto’s, whose left leg had been broken at the knee and thigh by a heavy hitter. He’d been carted out to the SUV by Brittany and had shouted out as they pulled him through the door, “I’m alright! I still got bullets!” 

“Okay, so no explosives,” Noah commented.

“Well, not immediately,” Rachel confirmed. “I think we need to do this the old fashioned, brute strength way. Slayers first.” 

“Hey, why do the girls get to go first?” One of the cousins protested.

“Because its our job,” snapped Santana.

“It’s our job too.”

“Can you bend a crowbar?”

“If I have the right tools....”

For some reason that set Quinn laughing, which started Brittany giggling. “Okay. Okay. Look, we don’t know what’s down there. I doubt it’s a Master Vampire, because, hey, this is Lima. But, whatever it is, is awake by now, holed up and waiting. It’s night time, so the only reason they’re not up here is that they know we’ve got ‘em cornered. I think we could use the backup, but we don’t want anyone hurt.”

“Little Lady, it’s just a bit of pain.”

Rachel, fortunately, was not like Buffy when it came to her size. However, she was not enamored of being spoken down to. She growled out, “Or death.”

The hunter blinked back at her and then shrugged, “Who wants to live forever?”

\-----BTVS multi-----

By the end of the planning, it was decided that it would go Slayer, Watcher, and then Slayer, Hunter, as there were plenty of hunters for back up. The slayers were very protective of Estelle, and so they vetoed her offer until they knew the room was cleared. Judy, Hiram and Leroy and a few of the cousins were assigned the task of getting the injured help and making sure that nothing bad got out of the house while the others were occupied with what remained.

“Ready?” Rachel queried, hand on the doorknob. The chair had been removed and nothing had tried to leave in a hurry. Almost everyone stood to one of the sides of the door, in case. Jorge had chosen to stand about ten feet away, pistol in hand, centermost.

After she got nods of acceptance from everyone, she opened the door, revealing steps down into a darkness that seemed to thicken and grow heavier the farther one looked. She reached in and flicked a switch to the side. The lightbulb, which held an elderly, spluttery glow, barely dented the dark.

Nothing sprang out. No vampires, ghouls or ghastly made their stand. It was, aside from their small movements, eerily quiet.

And still Brittany mouthed the words, “Bad Vibes.” She got many nods in return.

Quinn, hefting a pistol in one hand and the machete in the other started forward, stepping lightly and quickly down the stairs. She could feel the darkness waft over her as she entered the stairwell and it was surely skeevy, with a hint of threat. The sensation gave her a bit of an uncontrollable shiver, but she kept pace, and made it all the way down the stairs.

Pressure seemed to build in the air with each step they took into the basement. However, no one stopped or complained or even whispered of fear once they started. This did not mean that Quinn didn't exhale in relief when her feet touched the sturdy, cement floor. 

At first glance, there was nothing. No one. Not a single vampire to be had, just a shadowy basement. She waited for a moment, as if something might leap out of the shadows, but nothing did. So she glanced back, gaining a nod in return, which led her to move away from the steps and into the basement proper. Given the space, it should have been easy to discern the contents and parameters of the basement, but the shadows had turned so deep and the lights had grown so dim that it was like entering a cave. 

Slayer sight and senses compensated to a certain extent, with her senses screaming a danger signal. 

As soon as the last human finished taking the stairs down, the door to the basement slammed shut and the lights that did penetrate the darkness flickered violently. 

It was only then that what they sought appeared, seeming to alternate into being in-between the flashes of light. A mass of eyes of all sizes stared back at them, blinking and shifting along a globe-shaped form. If there was a mouth, it wasn't readily apparent, but tentacles wriggled obscenely in patches around the body of the creature. The thing rotated, hanging in the air like a puppet without strings, until they were faced with an eye as large as a human head. 

"Holy..." The unfinished swear, seemed to hang in the air as the slayers and hunters and watcher fought to move against the powerful pressure brought to bear against them. Gravity and heaviness in the air compressed their motions. Even the slayer's natural speeds were pushed into slow-motion. 

Quinn fired and the bullet could be seen in its travels, riding against the magic in the air, pushing slowly, and most likely harmlessly towards the entity. 

As the bullet appeared to float in the air, propelled by that slow motion force, the eye on the monster started to light up. 

“Duck!” The call of common sense sounded as if they were under water. The hunters and slayers and Noah all spread out and away as fiery light blasted where Quinn had been standing. 

The bullet never even touched the creature. It disintegrated in the bolt of light that zapped from one of the creature’s tentacles, which turned out to be eyestalks. Quinn screamed as she felt the heat of the blast scorch past her shoulder, but the scream died down when she realized her shoulder was still attached.

Noah shouted out, feeling as if he were talking through mud, “Don’t look directly at it! Swords, knives and flame, if you got it! Slayer speed, kids! Fast as you can go. ”

Of course, his warning sounded muffled and drawn out, but by the time he finished, the young women were moving. Also, more slow-motion gunshots rang out, as the hunters followed up Quinn’s first volley.

A hunter shouted, “I told you we should’ve just used a grenade!” 

By the time that sentence was finished Rachel had come in swinging, at what would have been an enormous amount of speed anywhere else, and made the first cut. An eyestalk began to drop to the floor as she followed up with another swing up, which tore into a fleshy part of the creature. 

The monster screamed, a terrible noise, even as Noah shouted, “Stop shooting!” 

By that time, Rachel had been joined by Santana, who had somehow managed to launch herself up and over. She slammed down on the creature from the top, two big knives in her hand and those eyes were gone as she leaped off and away. A bolt of light flashed from an eyestalk at one of the still gunning hunters. He disappeared in an instant crispy blaze that caused an explosion of ash. 

Quinn by that time had recovered, and made her own dent in the beholder’s world with a long knife. Another tentacle went flying, the blast that had been forming on it fading away even as it fell. 

Brittany did a handspring, scooping their uncle away from one of the random blasts before he could even react and then flowing into the battle, which started speeding up faster and faster as the creature was whittled away. 

As the last eye was punctured, a blaze of light filled the maw of the creature’s mouth, which had been finally revealed. A wave of energy flooded the room and the people in it as the monster lost its shape and just disappeared into the light.

Glancing around at the suddenly bright room, filled with treasure, other kinds of loot and very expensive furniture, Santana said, “Well, at least it had taste.” 

“That’s what you got out of this?” Rachel reproved.

Santana shrugged and pulled Brittany into a one-armed embrace. “A girl’s gotta have priorities.”


End file.
